I want to go “ARGGGGGGH”..

..but I think I’ll just resort to verbal vomit. As usual.

The past few days have seen me lethargic and at the brink of desperation for something, and just like every other time, something = I have not a fucking clue what. I stopped purging for a week, only to feel fatter and fatter by the minute so I’m back at it. The neediness I thought I was done for good with in 2007 is wrapping itself around my neck, and enough just isn’t enough anymore.

I’ve resorted to working to get my mind off everything, and sometimes even to escape the drama in school. I come home from work everyday feeling and looking like a truck ran over me and nothing truly satisfies me anymore.

If I could give a title to this phase in my life, I’d call it “The Ugh.” I want out and I want out now.

*sorry if nothing here makes sense.

One of those Izzie-inspired ‘I believe’ entries.

I believe in the truth.

I believe in the hurt that it can unleash, I believe in the pain that it can swallow. I believe in sacrificing the truth for a greater good, and I believe that there’s such a thing as a greater good. I believe in the technicality that the truth promotes. I believe in truth as a double-edged sword. I believe that the truth can set us free, but at the same time shackle our feet onto mediocrity. I believe that a life of truth exists, and I believe that it’d literally destroy you. I believe that the bruises the truth inflicts is all made up for by the truth itself. I believe that everybody deserves the truth, but I believe that nobody deserves to have to tell a truth that’d hurt so bad, because believing in it is so much easier.

I was never good at making choices, so I left it up to a friend to pick my fate for the next few weeks. *inserts awkward pause* I don’t know.

Do you?

Cause he’s the reason.

I woke up with this nagging sore, and no prizes for guessing where.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that it’s you,
or that it’s always you.

I’m soaking myself in self-loathe today, and I don’t care.

I remember the sound.

I should know who I am by now
I walk the record stand somehow
Thinking of winter
The name is the splinter inside me
While I wait

But I don’t have to make this mistake
And I don’t have to stay this way
If only I would wake.

My life since the start of 2008 has been pretty mundane. Like a distant cloud, it drifts along the calm, blue sky – waiting, watching, waiting. I’d have my back against a sturdy oak tree, seeded on a lonely patch of green, my head upright – watching, waiting, watching my marshmallow of a life. I like it this way, hushed and all – but I’m not exactly crazy over the idea of a existing in a mediocre life.

So that’s it, it’s official and I’m declaring it:

*ridiculously long drum rolls* I miss 2007. *ka-ching*

I miss how I allowed acquaintances to step into my life and flip it into a mess I could hardly afford. I miss the long, empty bus rides and the theories of life I invented along the way. I miss the strangers whom I drew up imaginary to-do lists for whenever boredom stroke. I miss my self-assuring pep talks with the mirror. I miss lip-syncing to sad songs whenever I think people aren’t watching. I miss pretending I was working up an exercise with my mouth when I realised people are. I miss the feeling of being in love. I miss the pain that followed through. I miss every inch and ounce of 2007 like a mother misses her dead baby.

I miss so many things about 2007 – the drama of it all sits right on the top of the list. Yet at the same time, I’m awfully afraid to watch 2008 grow sour.

But it seems like I’m too late for that, because it just did.

Kung Hei Fat Choi.

Princess Daniel wishes Auntie Yanzhen a Happy 19th Birthday and a Prosperous Chinese New Year.

Pop & Gum.

I badly need an escapade – from you, you and you – one which involves me being surrounded by strangers, rubbing shoulders with strangers and exchanging glances as I judge the strangers who judge me back. There would be a bizarre statue of a pair of siamese twin penguins for the sake of conversation starters, flowers would blossom in shades of blue and the white, fluffy clouds would be accompanied by an allaying breeze in the sky. True love would exist, friendships would abide. People are generally happy there, for the lack of grievances in the air.

Gravity is optional and beauty is not hassled upon. Cotton adorns the frame of plenty, children frolic wooden slides and swings. Pollens dance across the air, invigorating the senses we’ve impaired. Lies are frowned upon and the truth yields answers to doubts we share.

You’re exhausting me, pushing me to believe in a fantasy, a cynic’s greatest nightmare. I want to understand the point of this friendship but everyday, all I see is just yet another reason not to. I’m halfway up my neck with you, with the friendships I’m trying to manage, with the truths I’m trying to set apart from the falsity you speak of – and I’m almost convinced that I’m not cut out to be your friend, or anyone friend’s to start with. One day, you are going to cross my line. And when that happens, I’m going to lose you.

You, along with every friendship I believed in.

p.s. This isn’t about you, M. With you, I don’t even know where to start. 

Now kiss my ass, Mickey.

Walt Disney, watch and learn.

7 eyes-squinting hours, 2 strawberry yoghurt, a few hundred smoke breaks and 1 macintosh – it’s finally done. I feel like a proud momma watching her 6 year old son act as a tree in the school play.

 

Quick update on my very important life.

My sincerest apologies for the lack of updates. Well, just a quick update on what I’ve been up to these days.

#01 My livejournal
Racked up the livejournal I forgot I even had. So I’ve been toying around with it, nothing interesting but it’s http://epilogueofyou.livejournal.com if you’re interested.

#2 Across The Universe / Jim Sturgess
Believe it or not, I’ve never been a Beatles fan. I mean sure they were cute with the whole bob and accent but the show, wow. If Moulin Rouge and Hairspray had a baby, this would be it. And Jim Sturgess is possibly the hottest manboy alive. I want to lock him in my cage (which already habitats Paolo Nutini and Shia Lebouf) and throw away the key. Hey Jude, come join me on my bed

#3    Nasty pimple
Don’t ask.

#4    Assignments
Well, at least the procrastination stage’s over. Believe it or not, doing it is actually the easier bit of the lot.

 

So that has been my life over the weekend, spilling into the first day of the week. Lying on my belly, nursing a pimple, watching awesome movies on the internet and acting like a fangirl. I know, right?! Can’t believe that I’m about to say this but…

I love 2008 already.

It, the silent trigger.

Open eyed, you’re greeted by a view so familiar, faces so ordinary that you can’t be bothered to take a mental picture. Lives were being embraced and mourned for as the people before you were living theirs. Flowers were blooming and cures were being discovered. Plain Jane’s and Average Joe’s were littered across a distance, blending into the mediocrity of one another. There was no doubt to the barren of interest that was laid before you.

Yet there was something about the passable pedestrians in their second-rated lives, treading on undistinguished landmarks that seemed as if you were not tailored to be amidst all this lack of character. You start to ponder, and almost instantaneously, like a spark flying off a cracking sparkler – it happens.

The trigger. The one that’s silent, invisible and patiently hiding behind all that mediocrity, waiting to be unveiled by none other than you. This trigger, it could be anything – a sudden inspiration, a need to be loved, a need to love, recalling the memory of an old friend, craving for closure – like I said, anything.

And damn, this trigger is one stubborn little bitch. Like a woman bearing a grudge, it needs to finish what it started and it will finish what it started.

And before you know it, your life takes an abrupt 360 and with much hope and wanting – it happens.

It happens.