You know, I have no better means to express the depth of loathe and hatred for my current work and its people. I have no oaths to utter under my breath because it's beyond that.

The fashion editor doesn't even know that Ed Hardy is the sub-line of Christian Audigier. How does one, one like me, not that fantastic and well-versed in the fashion industry, be working for someone like her? Who'd listen to her when she doesn't know what she's saying, doing all the time?

The work, as fetid as one can imagine, puts its staff down, doesn't recognize hard work and talent. They only want people who has no brains but work like dogs. Individuals, my ass. They merely want dogs, cows and livestock. If you guys think it's awesome and fantastic, think again.

I need to look for a job. I am looking for a job. I just want a job which I'll be recognized for my flair in writing, my articles, not because I report at 9:30am sharp every morning and leave at 10pm (this is what they deem as valuable employees), you can pile me with as much work as you want to and I will never utter a sound, know nothing about labels and their designers and get promoted to Editor - woooooooots.

Awesome ain't it?

stu·por

[stoo-per, styoo-]

–noun

1.

suspension or great diminution of sensibility, as in disease or as caused by narcotics, intoxicants, etc.: He lay there in a drunken stupor.

2.

mental torpor; apathy; stupefaction.

-

Why do I always have to say/do stupid crazy shit when I'm in this state. I DO NOT think my personality is fucking awesome/perfect FYI! I know I always let my ego/pride get the better of me! Fuck me okay? I am sorry.

ARGH.

Wrecked just a week prior birthday and 2 weeks before Auckland trip. I don't think the word sanity exists in my realm, I don't think anyone is capable of fathoming whatever I do, but this time round, I have done wrong. I have done so wrong, and nothing I do can redeem myself. This is the result of an impromptu act which I was caught unprepared for, which I did not plan and think it through before I took the leap. This is the aftermath of expectations which was unmet, this is the consequence that I am bearing because of words I said in a drunken stupor, this is the crazy thing I do. This is me, nevertheless, so me, typically me. I said I am sorry, but to whom, I am not sure. I hate being on the back of everyone's mind, or just that little corner, or worse, a fading shadow. I hate this. I knew it's going to be a tightrope walk and I just had to do it, I despise myself.

This is how we party - 15/7/2011.

The Devil Inside

You know something is not right (again) when you suddenly broke down and bawled uncontrollably with your palms masking your face, and they seem to be the only support you have...

I have a devil inside tonight. He told me to put on my black eyes, scarlet lips, get out, do something I used to do - drunk, wasted, laid, rest a hangover the next day, spent loads of money, and forget about the entire tale when Monday comes - that's how I derived at happiness, that's what I had believed happiness was.

I had a secret deep within me that's untold. I stood 57 stories off ground a few nights ago and the bar played a familiar tune. And as I peered out into the outstretched horizon of city lights, I knew that secret is my poison.

I kissed a gay colleague the French way. He started it first, then I reciprocated. Then I started it again and he reciprocated. I didn't know what I was doing, but I knew that was what I wanted to do. The human touch felt good and I realized I have been neglected for too long.

I want to unleash something in me. Something that was attempted to be murdered, buried and left to fade. Alas, the remnant survived. There are a lot of things that need to be done. The prowl has begun.