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.

Project 365: Day 8 – Blue Box

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.

Today, on a brown table with briyani and meehoon goreng between us, I told him something that has bothered me for a long time, and produced the shock and disbelief and dread that I knew would have came. I gave up my ‘writer’s block’ front and out came the burst of confession. maybe i don’t want to be a writer.

Streaming tears down my face, him trying to help me out, help me out, him warning, him advising – how many times have we been in this scenario? Where I pointedly ignore the stares from the tables around us, the waiters’ awkward shuffle, the choice between leaving the tears and clumsily blowing my nose, where I fight the obstinate voice that disagrees within my head whilst trying to listen to a genuine voice – it’s like the palliative substitute to the real cure, where the talks spur me on, inspire me, and gives me hope that i’m not incurable, perhaps I can do this.

I’ve lapped up all the talks before this. On daring to be different. on art. on learning thinking doing. on complacency. on dreams and passion. on just trying. But those talks are abruptly summed up in a few words today, while one slumped on the wall and the other on the toilet seat, that they served not their purpose. he doesn’t know how to help me.

In front of a toilet seat today, I tried to tell a man that i’m his fault. my keyword is the ubiquitous ‘maybe’ i’ve used throughout break-ups and bad grades, families and friends, and the many conversations held with myself. The Maybe that explains the little aspects of my life everytime i have a tiff with my ideal. like, maybe if you have said this to him, you wouldn’t be here right now. maybe when i get there, i will be different. maybe i can explain this as an inspirational block. maybe i can write a book because i love to read. maybe it’s their fault, because i wasn’t like this.

A few weeks before I told him that maybe i should concentrate on myself and not him, I thought to myself: ‘maybe you’re just using him as an excuse’, and at that time, decided i shouldn’t talk to him about what i thought, because maybe i was right.

Today, someone saw through me trying to escape again from a bind that i couldn’t- wouldn’t untie. the me who looks for catalysts and never ended the search because the muse supposedly never came after so many of them, the me who always thinks that maybe something will happen when i step out of a talk. and with that maybe, believed that something has, and stopped moving whilst the people around me marched forward, till i finally realise that i’m left behind again. the whole process is like watching a washing machine rinse and repeat the sequence it takes to clean the clothes, except I never seem to become fresh out of the wash.

He held me after my exposé, insisting that i turn around so that he could see me, and asked me for my plan. I answered him and he said, ‘after that?’ and i replied, disregarding my own imaginations of a perfect answer, that i’ll have to see what happens after that.

No more maybes.

as i was sitting hunched up and pouty (we merajuk and do absolutely disgusting stuff to each other while studying) in the corner of the study room as it is my turn to protest, i stumbled upon a math question i didn’t know how to tackle. At that moment i thought i heard weird faux sobs emanating from the big hulking figure just behind the desktop. Ignoring the sob and intending to ask my question, i emerged from my corner and saw this gleeful, evil being staring at the computer. he looked as if he struck a pot of gold. i wish i could have gotten it on camera.

my blog was almost sabotaged! this post could have been something utterly disgusting or sweet or worse, MY INNERMOST SECRETS REVEALED!!!

eh.

melodrama aside.

i was reading sara’s sister’s blog and stumbled upon this song, and as i only heard the song after reading about what happened to the artist, i kept crying. these days seem to be filled with empathy.

P.S : to my friends who do not only shop online *stares*, miss selfridge has 20% off all dresses now till 5 oct. so like sara who probably needs more than… was it 52 dresses? =)

and jean i finally realised why i’m prejudiced against online shopping! the small pictures you find online can disguise all the imperfections and ugly threads/sewing from the clothes they are trying to sell! (and i like you since we are friends with benefits LOL)

is when he pulls me close and whispers ‘ i love you’ with the same, soft voice into the back of my neck. every time.

when i recall that quiet little moment right now… i almost don’t mind the snores that came right after xD

Come. Let me show you my latest, bestest creation yet!

Is it big enough? I’m still clueless on wp picture posting. But from that thumb-sized picture you can see that it’s not something i’ve ever done before, aye! That took me 7 hours to complete! And two days of brainstorming, and a day of backache. But it put a smile on a certain someone’s face… so it was worth it.

You know what, i’ll even show the smile *flicks for pictures*

Eh. Apparently I didn’t get the smile (there’s one with Eva attacking us, but I’ll leave that for another session?) But here was him reading the card I wrote. I didn’t get the emo picture!

I haven’t came online for ages because of certain Streamyx issues. As per usual, I suppose. Nothing changed except Kayo’s gone, I’m hooked to playing Caeser 4, um, i’m no longer free on weekends because I take SAT tuitions – which includes a ton of homework as the English teacher emails the work to us. He asked us to ‘kiss our social life goodbye’ which, well, i don’t have much of one to begin with, so it doesn’t affect me all that much.

Eva evolved from the sweet little angel to a ferocious minion. She mangles soft toys, the leg of my jeans, joel’s fingers, and countless little things like shelves, guitar cases, pillows, beds, anything woody. I am afraid of that little minx >=(

You know what, I’ll show you that picture of her attacking us

And since i’m in such a picture frenzy, i’ll show you how i looked like when i was making the card!

Sigh nevermind this is the nicer looking picture. The other one had me staring daggers into the lens, and since you haven’t seen me in such a long time, this would be a better greeting right? (Secretly just wants to post semi-good picture of self *guilty grin*)

On a side note, I think I might be allergic to mascara. It hurts my eyessss.

Okay, back to building cities.

so.

apparently i have been unavailable, attached, girlfriended, partnered, coupled, semi-married, unattractive (to everyone but him huhu T_T) for a year.

i would love to be mushy and whatever and recall The Moments of our Relationship here. but SOMEone said he has no sentiments for time. and that he already looked into the future and see us clearly. so the anniversary is just a day for him.

yeap.

in addition, i don’t have nice pictures of both of us together. Just that same one i took last year, while studying. both of us in horribly old sport shirts, but those were the best pictures.

*can’t show off*

hmm.

*screams of outrage somewhere*

oh well.

jap girl’s coming today. busy week ahead hum

(Happy 1st Anniversary, dear. I quote what i wrote before: 2008 till forever. I love you)