Denial…

…is the best way out of everything.

BTW, HELLO JULY!

Yeah, I just realised it’s past midnight.

Yippidy skippidy doo daa!

Oh STFU.

Done with all the emo posts. Back to musing and what not. For now.

Ok. So I need to get my AP assignment up to scratch. At this point, it’s more or less…nowhere. We’ve tried to get some work done but we’ve got 80% more to complete. We is the screwedness.

I’m getting tired of being jostled into doing this and that and this and that. I think I’m entitled to my own opinions right. I can make SOME decisions on my own, without having 5 billion people telling me how to run my life. I mean, come on- I’m not a fucking toddler.

Oh Buried Child by Sam Shepard is such a messed up play. Holy cow. It’s so dark and dramatic and sooooooooo Alex Chua :)

I’m happy to be a part of it, but the fact that there isn’t much to do bothers me a weeeeeee bit. Oh well, hopefully we’ll be busier come next week eh…?

I want a makeover. Real bad.

And I’m discovering that perhaps I am more flawed than I ever imagined. Perhaps, my pretty little world isn’t as pretty as I thought it was. The cracks are starting to show and I wonder how much of it was my own contribution. Time for some soul-searching.

BOOM!

Yeah I’m on a post frenzy today.

No, I don’t constantly thank God for Esteban. Why?

Because I don’t know Esteban personally.

Because Esteban hasn’t done squat for me.

Also because half the people aren’t sure if there is a God and I don’t want to have to pick sides.

If there is a God though, I thank him for people like Joyee Khoo, Arthur Chia, Calvin Tan and Johann Oh. Not forgetting Rathika, Kate and Fatima for putting up with all my d-d-d-drama.

What I would do without them, I do not know.

To those of you who are trying to figure out who this Esteban is and why he’s even in this post, you obviously don’t listen to Panic At The Disco.

Yay! I’ve starting linking again.

The emo-ness must be in its final stages.

The days fade in and out.

Words dance on the page as I try to no avail to explain all this. I scrunch up the paper – the 5th in the past 10minutes – and dump it into the bin. I peel away another piece of paper from the pile. There has to be a way to start this right.

And so, I go at it again; but 3 minutes into the thing and I know that this isn’t going to turn out much better than the previous. 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, they all end up in the bin.

The pencil hits the wall and rebounds, falling some 3 feet away from my writing desk. Done. I am done with this. Saying I love you should never be this difficult.

The words refuse to fall into place, like so many times before.

and…

and… I know that I’m not the “you” in your status updates.

I just don’t know anymore.

I don’t know what is going on. I really am at a loss for everything. Continuing seems bloody pointless. Giving up seems wasteful. But I’m afraid we’ve already hit that “We share private things with each other ‘cause we’re good friends and will always be” kinda thing. It’s something like that, and I know that stage is a killer.
I feel stupid.
I should give myself space, but I just can’t stay away. I really can’t; it’s just not possible when it comes to you.
Oh and irony loves me. Well, he isn’t really important! But the one you are imagining…I could have told you who it was.
BUT OF COURSE I DIDN’T!
It would have been silly to tell you about…well yourself.

Oh, heart. Be strong.

I need somebody who loves me.

Sincerity.

Genuine smiles are hard to come by. In a photo they may showcase every oral flaw you have, but those photos are reminders of real joy.

I hate that my genuine smiles only come about in pictures of you and I. I really can’t catch a break. Fuck.

Let’s face it; I’m not perfect. Ok lah, I’m far from perfect. I’m actually pretty messed up. But you somehow take all that away from me? I’m trying to put into words what I’m hearing inside, but I can’t find the right way to say it. You made me feel good and now that you’re gone, it seems like everything bad thing about me has become more pronounced.

Of course, this is just my emo-ness talking. It’s not that big a deal. But for now, it is causing me a lot of bad energy. bad juju vibes.

I wish you all the best. But I also wish that you will come back. That’s a contradiction, I know, but I am selfish that way.

PS: ilovemybitches. They are keeping me standing tall. <3

My Apologies Dear.

Sorry for all the profanities. I wont be deleting taht post because it will be a reminder for me to never dream that high again.

I don’t hate you. I don’t. But its now time for me to heal. You have taken a lot away from me. I am just getting over all of it. In time, I will be back to square one.

Hope is out to kill us all, one by one.

Fuck you. fuck you and you and you. really. ARGGGGGGGGGH! I’m so mad now. fuck pleasantries and trying to be polite lah; i’m bloody pissed. You think you can use me that way? I will never be your stepping stone. you danced circles around me. fuck you for all you’ve done. stop talking to me from now on; you aren’t worth my breath. you are a bitch. full stop. no explanation needed, no excuse or long justifications. you are as messed up as I am. I hope you end up broken by the end of it.

FUCK. I thought you were different.

Obviously, today didn’t pan out the way i wanted it to. so don’t fucking ask me how urbanscapes was ‘cause my reply will be something along the lines of “I hope you die”.