Will you miss me when I am gone?

I can't wait for enlistment. At least I am going somewhere. And I can get busy and take my mind off some issues that just doesn't make me feel good right now.

dead people are boring

There are many things I don't find a need to say, nor redundant to ask unless of course I am interest in the subject or the subject talking about the subject. Which probably makes me a boring person because contrary to beliefs, I don't think I am that vocal as far as my thoughts are concerned.

17 days left.

Funny how things doesn't go the way I want when I drink or smoke, but when I start going on an extreme and opposite lifestyle, things seem to run smoothly. Perhaps life is trying to show me the right way and path in life, no matter how small and insignificant things maybe.


I'm starting to feel better about the loss of my phone already. I could be better off without the little distractions like fiddling with my phone wherever I am. Reading a book is perhaps much better than reading senseless articles on the internet. Staying away from Facebook doesn't mean I'll be less connected to the world. I might even be more engaged to the real world in many other ways.

Lotsa random thoughts today. And also, planning a fixed schedule to stick to for this two weeks. Sweet.

You still haunt me

If only I was there for you then, you might not have jumped.

i would sigh a lot but that will just make me sound old and annoying

I think I screwed up. But I want to start doing things right now.

The past is a grotesque animal and you see in its eyes how completely wrong you can be.

I felt so disoriented today despite being out with a good friend. Just so many things running in my head and I couldn't snap out of it. I wonder if I could get my thoughts out of my head before dinner time.

Solitude is blessed.

I think it is about time I learn about the wisdom of silence and speak only when necessary.

괜찮아요

Perhaps one of the hardest thing is to let people go. You know that you maybe on the same bed with them but you aren't the one they're thinking about. And wedged in between your bodies is an empty space, as if your bodies are making it clear that they don't want to have anything to do with each other. But the line was drawn clearly from the start, and there are no gray areas. How could I have missed that?

The worst thing is, you can't even do anything about it. You could cry about it, you could rave about it, you could get angry over it but nothing can change the fact that this person you're lying on the very bed with, isn't in love with you. They are in love with someone else, who share a very different bed, a very different room, a very different house. But they might very well be sharing the same feelings for each other.

And in their mind, you will always be this "very good friend" to them. This "friend" whom you would like to keep by your side. This "friend" whom you think "can find and deserves someone better". This "friend" who will be just a friend and nothing more.

I never feel good reading through messages without permission and now I feel really bad for doing so. Nonetheless, I am relieved that I know what was going. I mean, come on, his eyes lit up and his lips broke into a smile upon receiving that message. Who else could it be other than the one you really love?

As you walk on by, will you call my name?

Won't you come see about me?
I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby
Tell me your troubles and doubts
Giving me everything inside and out and
Love's strange so real in the dark
Think of the tender things that we were working on

lkjnsdalfjnaskbksjfba

Sometimes, I just feel like slapping myself over and over again. WHY DID I SAY THAT? :/

unicorn poop makes your skin glows

The media portrayal of unrealistic people isn't new. The fact is that we, the people who are criticizing the way media is portrayed, are the ones allowing it to continue what they are doing. As long as we keep buying into the marketing campaigns that aim to make us feel inadequate in beauty, we are making the campaigns work. We are worried about our outlooks and we feel incomplete without those "new-and-improved-life-changing" things that technology had made "the impossible seem possible". We are validating our worth in the society with just a lousy piece of glass, juxtaposed with excessively distorted advertisements. And as we buy diet pills, cosmetic products and expensive clothing to look like those people, we are showing the media that they are indeed giving us what we want. Believe me, because I regretted doing things to myself for the sake of 'beauty'.

To hell with the idea that beautiful is thin (or muscled) and white (or tanned) and flawlessly skinned.
The media is only a reflection of what will interest us most, what will make us turn our heads and pay attention, and therefore garner the most attention, income and (what else) power.

The people we love are the people who are most beautiful to us. Because beautiful does not have to be physical. Actually, if you ask me, inner beauty speaks infinitely more, and is so much more striking and powerful.

To quote from an article I read recently:
"So let me tell you what I think beautiful is, what real, deep, inner beauty is to me. Beautiful is he who keeps his head up and is proud of his body, just as it is. Beautiful is the man who has to hide his gay lover from his judgmental parents, but who loves him, regardless of what the world will think. Beautiful are the women who buy the jeans that fit them, not the ones they hope will fit one day; the people who wear what they want because they like it. Beautiful are the people who choose love. Beautiful are the people who allow their bodies to be their temples and canvases, and who create their outer beings to reflect their inner. Beautiful are the people who hurt and feel insecure and make mistakes—but rise above, and find confidence and admit when they’re wrong. Beautiful is you and me. Beautiful is everyday. Beautiful is the struggle and the triumph, and beautiful is the understanding how necessary the struggle was. Remember that the next time you feel hopeless. Beautiful is loving yourself enough to know you’re worth more than feeling inadequate."

In the end, I decided that as long as I am leading a healthy lifestyle and not harming myself while achieving what "beauty" is, there's really no need for me to get a pale skin tone and buy expensive clothing. And I'm quitting smoking. And reducing my consumption of alcohol.

Prohibition and shit don't work at all

" The first attempt at prohibition that we have any historical record of started with these words "And the Lord God commanded the man, 'You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.' " (Genesis 2:16,17). God gave them free will after that, despite banishing them from the garden of Eden. "

" In Catholicism, Augustine of Hippo underlined that the fruits from the Tree of Knowledge were not evil by themselves, because everything that God created was good (Gen 1:12). It was disobedience of Adam and Eve, who had been told by God not to eat of the tree (Gen 2:17), that was obnoxious and caused disorder in the creation, thus humanity inherited sin and guilt from Adam and Eve's sin. "

Look at a person like you're blind.

I want to look at you like I'm blind. I want to feel your body with my eyes closed, and know about your rough edges and perfect curves. I want to tear off my skin and make you wear it, so I could feel your back and your front all at the same time.

I want to know why you are so beautiful me. I want to know if it's those long lashes and big eyes that makes conversation shiver in excitement, or the way you always smile like a little boy excited with his fine piece of work built with Lego bricks. Or perhaps it could be the way you sing to me, and even though it is usually off-key, and Elmo has a far more pleasing sound, I've always loved to hear you sing.

I want to understand things about you that I cannot see and didn't know, things like the people you've ever been in love with, why you loved them and why they loved you. I want to know about the times you think you'd never make it through. I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate, and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. I want you to tell me about all the ways you've been unkind.

See I wanna know what you see in a mirror on the days you're feeling good. I wanna know what you see in a mirror on the days you're feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who told you that your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. I wanna know the person who told you that your worthiness could ever be reflected with a scar on your bum. I wanna know whoever told you that you aren't beautiful, then ask them come, I punch them for you. Hahaha.

Going, going, gone.

Im shivering, not because of the cold, nor the rain that I stayed under, but because I am scared of your words. Im on the verge of tears but you know, shit happens anyway.

"Everything is closer to the end, but I will get further from you."

can you hear my call?

Perhaps in a drunken stupor, I was rash (and somewhat horny). The last time I've ever done this was... never. Despite my advances, we didnt do anything. But I'm feeling so dirty about myself now.

One more spoon of cough syrup please

I've tried my best to not judge about people around me, and perhaps I secretly hope that everyone will stop jumping into conclusions about one's character without knowing him or her personally. If it happens that you are kissing someone you just met on the dance floor, or exchanged numbers with someone you find attractive, or just grooving to the music in each other's arms, that isn't being slutty. How can you judge one based on what they've not done?

One thing I know about all of us is that we are only responsible for who we are, not what others think we are. Oh, we are also only responsible for what we say, not what others think we say. And we are also only responsible for what we did, not what others think we did. Life's too short to even care at all.

Plagiarize the thoughts of people who've learnt the wisdom of silence.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I keep saying that I'm sorry. I know it's strange, strange in a "Why hasn't anyone learnt the difference between 'your' and 'you're' yet?" kinda way. But I say I'm sorry for stupid shit and trivial things and he sings the sweet logic that apologies should grow like trees, only able to bear fruit if it's root is planted in the soil of genuine sincerity.

Because before I met you I used to want to lock myself into a vault just to feel precious, just to feel wanted and loved. But now with every kiss hello and good bye - I feel a self-worth no banker can tally. Now I wanna know what it would be like to know you phonetically, to hold you unapologetically.

And, I'm sorry that when you sleep next to me, or when you sleep on the floor, you're forced to listen to the symphony of the unplugged nostril. And I'm sorry for calling you names, that's fucked up. Fucked up in a 'I just bought a boat so I can go rowing with you' kind of way. And crazier than that is the fact that I'll play at being brave. Now, don't doubt about the worth of your life. When you're trying to dodge a tidal wave, when you've got no time to save anybody but yourself - you better believe that you're worth it.

And you're worth the time it takes to take the time to get to know you. We've managed to muddle through the awkward stages of I like you and do you like me. And when we both said 'yes' life became a multiple choice test, not knowing anything we could be each others' best guess. And, to be able to hold your hand is less like exploration and more like discovery.

And, like the best idea I'll ever have, I want you to occur to me daily. And, I'm sorry, but I want to kiss you every time you have something incredible to say. But you're beautiful, beautiful in a 'you' kinda way. I wanna tell you a secret and I want you to listen with your lips. I want my hands on your hips, I want to put myself in your heart, like they were their final resting place. I'm more inclined to find a space in your heart to haunt for as long as you want me to.

And, this isn't the greatest romance the world has ever seen. I've come to realize romance should be less like a flower and more like an earthquake. And I'm not saying that I wanna shake cities to the ground, where we find the kind of tolerance to rebuild in the face of tragedy. Because I'm tired of living in a world that says people only come together when faced with catastrophe. I want you and me to come together to face everything. I want you to want me to be the me you see, and as for romance well I want that too.

I wanna fall asleep next to you a million times a night so I can know you a million times better before we hit the daylight. And in spite of all of these, I also want amnesia. So that I can relive each kiss with a perfect newness. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I want so much. I'm sorry that I've been using I'm sorry as a crutch to lean on for so long. But if you sing me that song of sweet logic again then I promise to make the effort to stand on my own."

Oh que sara sara.

I don't know what to do with impossible. I dont know much about the world, yet. So, I dont know what I can do to change the world. So no matter that I have inhibitions to fill all my pockets, I keep trying, hoping that one day I'll do something I can be proud to let sit in a museum exhibit as the only proof I existed.

"Yet, I see the impossible every day. Impossible is trying to connect in this world, trying to hold onto others while things are blowing up around you, knowing that while you're speaking, they aren't just waiting for their turn to talk - they hear you. They feel exactly what you feel at the same time that you feel it. It's what I strive for every time I open my mouth; that impossible connection.

When I meet you, in that moment, I'm no longer a part of your future. I start quickly becoming part of your past. But in that instant, I get to share your present. And you, you get to share mine. And that is the greatest present of all. So if you tell me I can do the impossible, I'll probably laugh at you. I don't know if I can change the world yet, because I don't know that much about it. But if you make me laugh hard enough, sometimes I forget what century I'm in. This isn't my first time here. This isn't my last time here. These aren't the last words I'll share. But just in case, I'm trying my hardest to get it right this time around."

忍

No distractions day.

Blah

I realised I tend to get so frustrated at everything about myself when I meet a setback. I know I should be going easy on myself but I wouldn't want to omit the possibility of me being the one at fault. I know this is detrimental, but in a way, I want to improve myself to make myself feel better.

Then comes the frustration about people who dismiss it easily when I tell them about my problems. I get so frustrated that I don't even want to talk about it anymore. Why do I not want to tell people about my problems? First in the list is because I don't want to be an emotional burden to others. And of course the next is when people find it so easy to 'deal' with me dismissively, even though I just need a listening ear. Why would I even want to talk to people about myself when all they do is to shake it off with a vague and insensitive remark?

Meh.

Now I have to change my pillow case.

We were in your room, just trying to sleep, with your brother by the side snoring really loudly for his size. Then of course, your mom saw us in bed together (and I don't know why my pants was halfway down). Mother said it is nice seeing me again, but I know that at that time she didn't really like me staying over frequently. Fast forward a little, I felt really bad and decided to leave. The rain poured on me as I make my way towards the railway station, and you sent me a text message along the line of "The reason why we're not together is because you are not even comfortable working to get a stable income." Few moments later, you caught up with me and sheltered me with your umbrella. Then your maid and mother appeared behind us. Mother told me this and I quote, "You should come back more often. It's been 2 years since we last saw you." I was happy, but at the same time, I felt so heavy in my chest. Other things happened, like chased by a mob of mongrels disturbed a household of angry taoists, and other weird stuff.

Then I woke up crying and I realised it was a dream.

Fear is the heart of love

Perhaps it is the fear of knowing the truth, and that truth is what I've imagined and feared, that I pull myself away from the falling deeper, knowing that I was probably thinking too much, assuming that things happened even though they might not have happened in the first place.

Perhaps it is the fear of losing him even as a friend, that I try not to probe too much, asking about things he might not want to say, questioning his words wondering if they are honest and real.

Perhaps it is the fear of falling too fast and sinking too deep, that I struggle to get out, only to fall over and over again. Twisting and turning my body like a professional contortionist, only to fall over and over again.

When love pulls you in like quicksand, and the only way to get out is to stay still and take your time, get to the edge and play a slow game of tug-o-war. And when you finally get yourself out, you ought to feel relieved and free but you find bruises on your hands, your body sore and fatigued from the struggles. You know you've gained freedom once again, yet etched in your mind you've gained fear too. Lost something during the struggles, maybe a shoe or a sock, or maybe a part of you still trapped on the bed of the quicksand. And the fear still haunts you till this very day, telling you "This is dangerous, never ever step inside again."

God, I wished I learnt.

Asking Too Much.

"I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe your bedroom when you were 8.

See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.

Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek?

Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers joy when she spoke it for the very first time.

I want you tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. Tell me—knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school. If you were walking by a chemical plant, where smoke stacks were filling the sky with dark, black clouds, would you holler, “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud or would whisper, “That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy”?

Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea? And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me? See, I wanna know if you believe in any god, or if you believe in many gods. Or better yet, what gods believe in you. And for all the times you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you’ve asked come true? And if they didn’t did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who?

I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. If you ever reach enlightenment, will you remember how to laugh? Have you ever been a song? Would you think less of me if I told you I have lived my entire life a little off key and I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry I just plagiarized the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence.

Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence? And if you do I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes from other people’s wounds. And if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon that if you wanted to you could pop—but you never would because you’d never want it to stop.

If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it, if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

And lastly, let me ask you this: if you and I went for a walk, and the entire walk we didn’t talk, do you think eventually we’d kiss? No way. That’s askin’ too much—after all, this is only our first date."

Mania.

Because I am boring, snobbish and oh if you havent heard, the biggest slut in town.

lovepeacelovepeace

Having all these years fighting for our rights, for our voices to be heard, I honestly think Singapore, as a whole, has changed alot over short span of years. I'm glad to know that, but I also realized that this change is really easy for us to cope with, but for more conservative citizens that we share this land with, it could be too much of a change and it's might be quite difficult for them to cope with. We all know that people need time to adjust, and the more we push it, the more they are forced to take a stand quickly, which usually would cause them to stick with the decision for life.

Sometimes, I believe it is okay to take a break from these and let things settle down for a little while. If some people have to put words in our mouth and if they have baseless assumptions, we might not actually need to put forth an argument. Just cool it for the moment.

I'll like to make a plea to everyone, homosexuals or heterosexuals, let us get along and no matter which side you are on know that all of us wants to make the world a better place that is one with peace and love. To not discriminate against anyone's race, language, religion or lover is fundamentally love. And with love, it brings peace.