i wonder if it’s futile, wishing and looking for love to come one day. I want to be so beautiful to my man that i will be enough for him. so that i don’t have to suffer agonizing over others. apparently i’m a hurt little lamb who pretends to be okay. did u know that’s why i hated all of them? because they remind me of hurt. that long deep scar that never healed. 

because to me, love is not having to compete…

To tell you the truth it feels like it never happened. but sometimes it feels like it was an incident that happened too long ago that I cannot remember. If you ask for memories I can’t seem to conjure any up. I’m not living on the sweet times we had, nor do I remember the times we cried. I think the best way to word it is that I am placed in the now, and only caring for the few precious now moments left, before summer comes and I lose him to distance and curiosities. new flesh, new sights, new ideas. This was essentially why both of us broke up, and this is what I know he’ll do.

If there’s one thing I learnt, it would be that I am too attached to emotions. I am largely living in ignorance of how I really feel now, but when chance encounter of words or sights reminds me of what seems to be a gaping hole in my heart, I’d wrap my hands around my body and hold myself as waves of loneliness engulfs me. my eyes involuntarily water, i struggle to portray normalcy as heaviness pulls me down, sadness. Sadness! I withdraw from the world into my own poisonous thoughts – speculating, wondering, over-analysing. Honestly, it is the most tiresome process. and many times i’ve woken up without the will to go to class and go through the daily motions because this weakness of mine saps me of strength.

I wish I could say that I’m learning, becoming stronger, wiser, better. But I’m not. I’m here and I finally realised that I don’t know how to learn – is that what I’m lacking? I want to look at things and see beauty, or see something more than what my eyes informs me. The tree is a tree. The old shop an old shop. Am I assuming too much? I’m obsessed with beauty in the way that I don’t want to see beautiful things, but I want to see beauty in everything. I want to see the beauty that no one else sees. is this still my own wishful thinking? it’s probably just that selfishness, that feeling of wanting to feel special. The key words are ‘that no one else sees.’ In the end it’s just about wanting to be different, to be special, to be seen as beautiful by others with the unorthodoxy of what I do. this is my wishful thinking. 

p.s.: though this is not a satisfactory piece of writing at all, the author is thankful that at least after writing it, she forgot about being sad for today.

I wanna go home. Beauty surround me so that I can attract again. He’s not the one I should love right now!

boost confidence ; )

The people who need that ONE thing will never get it.

Can’t I expect something from anyone at all? Must I be so small and meaningless to expect that everyone will fail me? Don’t I deserve to get angry sometimes? So why is it that I always feel that I shouldn’t? What’s wrong with you?

where would my heart have gone if it weren’t with you?

Tear. Heartstrings are not so easily cut, my dear one. but it shouldn’t matter so much to me anymore. At least I remind myself that.

There is no sound but the constant air coming out from the vent. What do we call these? A woosh of air? A swoosh? Other than that, the couches and table sit numbly around the common room, silent and unmoving in their companionship.

As I sit here now I wonder what is it about this room that makes me frequent it – almost eager to return to it. And why is it that when others are occupying it it makes me self-conscious to even enter and use the microwave. Surely it’s a common room and everyone’s entitled to it. Then again, it’s just an unspoken rule. If someone came earlier to study, no one else should break the peace. 

It’s like a form of escapism, returning to this quiet room. I never really know if I actually like to come here and be alone, or is it now a mere habit I picked up. All I know is that I don’t have to think when I’m here. I’m existing in a different place.

Everyday for fleeting moments when online logins meet, I receive snippets of great information about my closest friends – unexpected, life-changing (for them) information that makes me at once so happy for them, yet slightly irritated that i’m so far away and cannot be part of it. Yet.

These moments give me the feeling that time is rushing past me, and there, far ahead of me, is everyone I love. Either I’m standing still or I’m walking too slow to keep up, as each of them head further and further into separate directions, and soon I cannot reach either of them at all. 

Of course, all everyone of them has to do is send me a piece of paper, electronic or otherwise, to inform me about certain important changes in their lives -____-

but i’ll be fair. I’m like them, I wait for the fleeting minutes of coincidental meet-ups on msn to tell them anything drastic. I like telling them ‘in person’. The mailing system always struck me as too formal.

Regardless, the one I’m most worried about is you. You, with the capabilities to disappear into the horizon; you, surrounded by millions; I’m running now. Everywhere. I’m running and running and running

and I’m looking for my home to go to look for you waiting for me on its beautiful doorstep.