dear you,

i wanted you to draw me a picture or write me a letter for christmas, because i wondered if there are things you meant to say, but somehow never did. i want to know more of this side of you, because i believe it's the main reason why i fell in love with you.

with love,
yours truly.

being cool is so easy.

being mean is so easy.

giving up is so frigging easy.

when you make me feel unimportant, that's when i feel like being cool, being mean and giving up.



oh, but when i think of when we'd kiss underneath, nearby your balcony i remember how much it took for us to be together.

and i guess because i can still vividly remember how it feels to hold you, i should still give us another chance.

you make me so happy i can't believe indulged myself in the thought that it was never meant to be a few days ago. i guess this is one of the few times i actually don't mind being proven wrong.

i wonder if its possible to grow up, be mature and but love like you've never loved before?

same old..123

i love it how up till now i still can't help flinging myself onto my bed to twist and turn, grinning like a fool when i recieve your texts at night.

123

i just realized this morning that i would be fine without you.
but i'd be pretty much fucking on top of the world with you here.

:)

i remember the first time i saw you.

you were giggling.

you placed your hands on your friend's shoulders hid your face on her back.

and you were giggling.



sometimes i wonder how people live?

when they have nothing but dissipating memories in their heads?



i wish could've made a montage of all the moments where i remember you

so everytime when i miss you till a point i can't stand it anymore

i could watch it

through my tears

and wish

that i had captured just one shot more.

how could anyone get enough of sunday afternoons?

it's raining outside.

Gosh, it was only a few days ago; and yet it feels like forever. Love really fucks up time.
Speaking of which, some things are just not meant to be.

If only I could be proven wrong.

I wonder if I'll ever be too old to fall in love.

Isn't it weird how you do/feel all these random things when you're in love?
Isn't it a sign, when you start to doubt yourself, that you're slowly falling out of love?

所以我 求求你
別讓我離開你
除了你我不能感到一絲絲情意

若即若離

again 123

What happens in summer? You get frigging typhoons.

Torrential rain. Strong winds.
Crazy trees howling in the night.
Blurred vision.
Lop-sided plants. Smashed pots.
Cellophane tape.
Danger signs.
Hourly updates.
Seasonal.
Moody.
Intense.

You never know when its going to hit to you.
But you know its not going to be staying around for too long.

And you never know when it'll come back again.

jealousy.
jealousy.
jealousy.







get over it.







the only cure for jealousy is to pour in more love.

123

maybe one day i'll tell you
talking to you at night is my favourite time of the day.

who else?

I hate love.
It's so out of your control.
Sometimes it's soooo there.
And then suddenly,
It's gone.

cafe etiquette

Things you should do in a cafe/restaurant:

1. Always be polite to the staff. Really.
2. Ask the staff for reccomendations. Ask them about where the ingredients are from. Ask them how its being prepared. They love it.
3. With coffee, tea, please don't ask for sugar. It's not cool. If you really need it be to be sweet, ask for honey.
4. If the music is good, complement the selection of music.
5. Always compliment the barista if the coffee's good.

*to be continued*

123 again

You're like a guava and peach smoothie on a scorching day.
And John Coltrane on a starry night.

123

C tells me you are like a reflection of me. Haughty, self-centered, passive-agressive, indulgent, self-conscious, vain, over analytical, full of love and very afraid.

One day, I will no longer think of you when I'm alone at night,
Or when I'm on the train,
On the streets,
When I put on perfume,
Or when I look at the blue skies,
And smell the summer breeze.

One day, I will no longer jump when my mobile phone tells me I have recieved a new message,
I will no longer hope it might be you,
Or your friend,
Telling me things about you.

One day, I will no longer blush when I talk to you on msn,
Blood will no longer rush to my heart when I reply you,
Nor will it drain away when you don't.

I will no longer think of you in every movie, in every song.
Thinking of my love,
Your love,
How things were meant to be,
How things turned out,
How things could have turned out,
And how we were both afraid.

And one day, when I see you again,
I will walk over and talk to you.
Hopefully it'll feel like a long lost friend,
And hopefully you'll feel like that too.

But fingers crossed, I pray,
In my entire lifetime,
I will always remember how you looked into my eyes,
The very moment-
-Three fucking seconds-
How you made time stand still,
The whole world disappear,
Leaving nothing but from you and me,
One fine afternoon.

I can't sleep.

Sleep is one of the privileges of the young. I can't sleep when I'm stressed- my mind is always where I wish my body could be; I can't sleep when I have nothing to do- it just seems like a fucking waste of time.

I strangely miss my room at Taylors. It was a fucking black hole. A bed, a table, a chair, a wardrobe. An undone bed and a half a load of unwashed laundry. Two stories above a canteen that served crap food and cordial. Every other meal was cooked in sweet chilli sauce and served with cold rice. Who invented cordial? That person should be hanged.

No one would have noticed if I died there.

And yet I miss it. Especially the holidays. Where I would rent four movies, eat instant noodles from a styrofoam cup and smoke mini-cigars beside my window. I had nothing but classics and booker prize nominees on my bookshelf. And probably half a bottle of Bailey's on my desk.

On Friday nights, I would make an effor to be sociable. It was always a struggle- should I pretend to listen to the crap band singing Radiohead off key, or should I pretend to listen to the boys and their untrue theories about women, school and gossip? On Saturdays I would visit the local pub with a book and my notepad.

Gosh, that was definitely one of the darkest periods of my life. Couldn't sleep then, couldn't sleep now.

I guess some people are meant to be alone.

yay!

so what could you possibly do on a 3 hour break on a rainy friday?

start a blog.

hello, world!