Have you heard of Marian Keyes? She's an Irish novelist and a non-fiction writer whose works consist the likes of "Lucy Sullivan is getting married", "Angels" and "The other side of the story". No? Try reading some of her works if you happen to be a fan of sarcasm, quick-witted dialogues and dark humour. Well if you don't have the ability to comprehend the meaning behind each of what she wrote, I'm sure you'll still giggle to some parts, perhaps just not as much.
Titled: New Beginning 2012 (13th March 2012)
Reading past entries never fails to either make you blush, shame you or perhaps plant that little hint of regret in your cognition/the chamber of emotions.
Titled 'New Beginning' for evident reasons, I'll list what calls for this title in point forms and then elaborate:
1. Broke up with Lord Sief
2. Got into my first gay relationship with Mademoiselle Madelia
3. Left the bunch of clowns at Ribbons
4. Harbour sexual/romantic thoughts for Peasant Westminster
5. Regretting having left Lord Sief
1. First and foremost, Lord Sief and I were already having problems which both of us had been choosing to be oblivious to. Indisputably, the both of us were soul mates to each other, and still are. However faithful we both tried to be to each other, it won't work out.
Dating someone of the same sex may be new, fresh and very interesting. But being in a relationship with one of the same sex is not. It's extremely hard to sustain a gay relationship especially when I feel I'm more inclined towards testosterones. And there's no bit of male's decisiveness, strength and firmness (not the hard-on) in Mademoiselle Madelia. She's a terrific person and she will make a good girl (hot, sexy, clever and all). She just can't be my girl. Maybe now I don't even want a girl.
Who on earth preaches about herself clearly knowing what she wants, and making decisions with much consideration and if possible, with clairvoyance? Me, yours sincerely, fucking me.
I'll never learn, won't I?
I can feel my feelings seeping away like fine sands through the little intervening gaps of the palm. And I don't know what to do. Don't wish to hurt her, it will kill me.
3. Left Ribbons. Full-stop forever. If there's ever a slight tinge of remorse, I regret not sending a hate mail out to everyone on my last day. Bye clowns. I hope PETA decides to call a raid on you one day and press charges against you for keeping so many exotic pets (namely pigs, two-headed snakes and hyenas) Sarcasm intended; not to be taken in a tongue-in-cheek manner.
4. Peasant Westminster. Funny how fate works around people. Let's see, we had a one-off thing in 2007. It's 2012 now. Five years and he's still hung up on me. I propose a toast to him for honouring the cliche 'you want what you can't have'. This man has got patience and I must say, the patience is slowly paying off. If he makes swift, smooth moves of a ninja's now on me, I'd be so darted to the wall with a big heart emblazoned across.
Maybe God is trying to tell me something. I obviously have my past (Lord Sief), present (Mademoiselle Madelia) and future (Peasant Westminster??? Really?!) presented to me on life's cake stand right now. And it's a cake stand because all of them have their own distinctive flavours and sweetness! I'll elaborate.
I've said it, Lord Sief is my soul mate - we talk about everything and to be honest, though sex plays a prevalent problem for the both of us, yet again, it does also prove to be really insignificant because we are so spiritually connected.
Albeit giving me lots of pain in the head, Mademoiselle Madelia is awesome.
Peasant Westminster. Sometimes I find those sexual/romantic thoughts vanish fast leaving no trace behind except for bile at the back of my throat. This is so confusing, especially when the feelings which were brought forth repeatedly were antipodes.
5. I regret having left Lord Sief. If I hadn't I may well be on a plane to the Kiwi Kingdom now and Mademoiselle Madelia won't be the way she is today and I won't be this confused over my impression (note, I didn't use 'feelings') of Peasant Westminster.
