Truth? Or Mere Words?

Often, people yearn to find truth to satisfy their undying curiosity, but when they have found what they sought, it is not enlightenment they come to, it is, in fact, the suppressed, old feelings that one thought to have died, that comes to light again.

Happiness. It is short-termed.

Putting one's past behind, and letting bygones be bygones, burying the hatchet with a smile, the intention to be good again, turn over a new leaf. It is nothing but a lie one tells oneself.

We never change, do we?

Months, and months, I've been laughing together with her again. I seem to have gotten back what I have lost: the happiness I threw away because of December's mistake. We aren't close, not at all, but, she radiates the life around her and though I hate it so, there's a strange affinity holding me to her. I, rely on her to feel alive. I rely on her to feel safe. I rely on her to restore purpose into coming back once I'm gone.

It's not like that at all.

She's like that to everyone else.

Kindness, it seems, is a sort of poison. Given by the wrong people, forced upon the ones who cannot be saved, the vile venom flows through the throbbing veins slowly, burning them with its corrosive nature, reminding the infected of guilt and regret, driving them insane, eventually. Pure kindness from the wrong people is a malady that sickens and kills from within.
What was it that I truly wanted to confess?

I had found my truth, the closure which I have been yearning for desperately since December. At first, I thought that my curiosity had dissipated into mere indifference after the months of embracing the girl again. Now though, I admit to myself that I'd always wanted to know the truth, and have always had a loathing towards her. I have betrayed myself with my own optimistic lies of letting bygones be bygones. A Scorpio never forgets, and I am cursed to live with that trait which the stars have forced upon me.

My greedy heart is never satisfied. It wants to know even more, more about the truth which it doubts. This is but the beginning, I fear.

...
...
...

Pure blasphemy!

What I have just wrote is merely thoughts of my confused brain. They may or may not be true because I'm sleepy and my eyelids are losing their strength. If I have caused you misunderstandings or worries, I apologize dearly.

Is this...

A good enough ending?

Grotesque

With each plastic container that I put aside, I cursed myself more and more. What am I doing? My hands moved on their own, rummaging through the dark cupboard, looking for a transparent box that isn't too big, nor small.

Why am I even doing this?

...

I had just finish making sushi. It's been a while, but tonight's sushi turned out to be just a little less than perfect. Same old, same old-- kyuuri, tamago, Chinese sausage as the filling. I love cucumbers.

Is this love?

No.

Deep down inside, there's a boiling pool of jealousy, the volcano kept dormant only by the ugly self-righteous conscience that tells me otherwise, the socially induced morals that determines what's right and what's not.

"Let it go..." it warbled beside my ears.

Then, as a smile hung on my face, my heart was blaming me for everything that I was doing. I didn't want to do it. But, I badly wanted to do it.

I wanted to give her my homemade bento.
Was it a smile of happiness? Or was it a sombre curve that formed on my lips due to days and days and days of being close to her, only to see from a third person's perspective that she is indeed loved by everyone else, even those who I call best... Friends?

History repeats itself.

It's as if she's stealing from me again.

I shake the thought away. No... Her being accepted, liked by the majority of us, is because of her easy-going nature. I, being alienated, being neglected, is because of my own detachment.

Is it all true though? That I am in this state because she's loved by everyone? Is this jealousy, or merely my own hatred towards myself for also loving her?

Yes.

Indeed.

I hate myself for loving someone that I've always been fond of, but for a short while, was all that I was disgusted by.

This is a perverse kind of friendship. Distorted by the lines of kindness, jealousy, love, and melancholy. I laugh with her, sit with her, touch her, and care for her, with a heart no less than pure, a soul no less than grotesque.

This is a different sort of love.

Her happiness brings me pain, and how I wish to see her cry, but it hurts me too, when she is truly down, though in the depths of my heart, those tears, bring  enlightenment and utter joy.

At this, I don't know whether to laugh, or to cry.

Happy birthday.

Chess

This will the first time in years that I go through my days without a book to write in. It's hard, I admit, but I have to accept reality at some point in my life. Now, I try to live a little, without relying on words to make me feel alive. 

There comes a time where things fall apart.

When you're so close to perfection, you'd wish that you'd never gotten so far in the first place. When you've never tasted victory, then you are at least spared the knowledge of defeat. One wrong move, and this game of chess will be over. I'm not one to think before taking my actions, my strategies rash and clumsy-- if I even come up with strategies-- and those impulsive decisions made by the rawness of my emotions have led my queen to become vulnerable once again. Pawns surround her, desperately, to protect her, in futile. It won't be long before the pikes and peasants succumb to bitter reality. They will fall. She will be taken again then-- by death.

The cycle repeats itself. A new game starts, though not very soon.

Wounds they heal, but scars, they never leave, do they? Unless you go for plastic surgery, of course. Wouldn't it mean concealing who you are, when you remove your scars by force? They are like the reminders of your past, memories and tragedies alike; they make you who you are now. Sometimes, I brush against the keloid across my heart and think of you. I smile. It'll never go away, that ugly reminder of you. But still, I'm happy. By now, you should have guessed that insecurities have once again trapped me in their endless echoes of negativity.

No. I don't want to talk about it.

I can't even write about it...

No. I shouldn't even be thinking of it-- yet.

I'm still drinking my cup of tea, calmly-- or so it seems. Poised and silent, I sit across from the king who can take me down at any moment, but inside, I'm burning and withering away. I'm being something I'm not, holding back the screams that desperately shout for attention with trembling hands that do what they are told for the better. If this makes me a better person, then why not? Nobody will end up in despair, but myself. Walk all over me, use me, and abandon me when victory is triumphed, she cries.

I'm tired of playing chess. This be my second battle that I give all my heart and soul.

"Every single day that I can breathe

You change my philosophy

I'm never gonna let you pass me by

So don't say 

your goodbyes

you know it's better that way

we won't break

we won't die 

It's just a moment of change

All we are, all we are is everything's that right

All we need, all we need is a lover's alibi"

One Republic

All We Are

Something's Missing

Looking at this dark brown marinade in front of me, I can't help but feel that something's missing. Did I put enough rock sugar in it? Or did I added too much soy sauce into my mixture? Is the mirin too little?Something's missing, but I don't know what.

An oriental soup spoon rests in the middle of my glass bowl, a little bit of teriyaki sauce flooding its center. It reminds me of the cough syrup Lisa poured down my throat hours ago. Brown, dilute and seemingly unpleasant.

Something's missing.

I'm not talking about my teriyaki sauce anymore. Even in me, my world, something's missing.

Relationships, a gap in them.

The stitches of the finest surgeon is surely flawed as well; the miniscule gaps between the thread and the wound still exists no matter which doctor holds the needle. It feels as if it's perfectly pulled together, but we all know that it's not. Then again, who are we to complain? At least our hearts are still beating.

What was my point in the last paragraph, you ask? Well, I'm not sure if I can explain it either since if I could, I wouldn't have used the surgeon, thread and wound metaphorically. Hah. Don't want to or can't? Honestly? I'm just too tired to explain.

I'm like this I guess, drawing comparisons between things that seem ridiculously impossible to be related to; put together.

I'll try my best to explain, despite being only half awake, with bacon still left to marinade.

The surgeon would suggest a person who is by my side right now. The wound would be my world, the phantom gaps are the missing things I feel but can't seem to grasp. But I can't complain about it, can I? Compensation-- this is as good as it's going to get.

Time to put the bacon in my marinade, wrap the bowl, keep it in the fridge and go to sleep.

In a few hours time, I'll be sitting on this very same chair, preparing my bento for a dreadful day of school.

Paragraphs of Changing Emotions

It's pathetic how I only blog about uneventful things. What about the picnic I had earlier today? Why didn't I write about that, huh? Why don't I write about it? Too much work? Well, writing crap right now sure isn't one bit tiring! I'm waiting for my movie to buffer on Asian-Horror-Movies dot com. I'm watching a Japanese thriller today, Lesson of the Evil. Ever since a month ago, I've been visiting the website almost everyday. Honestly, I'm getting really impatient. Last twenty minutes. How long, internet, how long are you going to make me wait? I certainly am not smiling right now.

"Write about the picnic Rachel," my brain is urging me to do so. "You know you want to." Well, God damn it, brain! If you wanted me to blog about that, then why don't you MAKE me? Instead, now I'm writing down all the random sentences that you won't stop producing! You scumbag!

So, yes, I went to the beach again today. I was happy during most of the morning when I soaked myself in the salt water. Walked along the whole stretch of sand today, from this end to the other! I never realized how short the distance was until today. My friends tell me that I walk fast, a bit too fast-- hah, that wasn't even my normal speed!

The sand, the water, the rocks, the leaves, the narrow path of the woods, the calmness of the morning, the smell of the sea, the thoughts, the smiles, the hopeless dreams, the bittersweet wandering, the healing wound... On top of the rocks at the edge of the cliff, I sat looking at the clear sky, at the distant island, the burgeoning construction of what seems like a bridge and the ships not far away. It's beautiful I thought. Yet I knew, my eyes could only see so much... When you can't see it, it doesn't mean that it isn't there. We all know very well that the waters are tainted.

Sitting on the boulders, it made me smile. It wasn't a happy one. It was a grateful one, but underneath, it is with the shadow of regret. The soft breeze that caressed my cheeks and danced with my uncombed hair giggled beside my ears, it was okay, they whispered and left a tantalizing touch of longing in my heart. In the forest behind, the cries of the Higurashi masked its eerie appearance; forget about the rotting chalets and the abandoned water park, the cicadas sang. The leaf-covered tracks seemed magical, even. I notice the ants that move in a line on a root that juts out of the soil.

I'd go out there again. Alone, next time. Preferably, if I could, I'd sit on the rocks and enjoy the view with my lover... Walking barefooted on the beach, going up rough stone steps without anything protecting my feet, moving through a narrow forest path and feeling the damp leaves cushioning each heavy step of mine... If only I had someone's hand to hold, that would cast the shadow away from my smile... If only, if only...

"Alone again? Tch. Always alone." Those words rang in my ears. A distant memory from months ago, before shattered hopes and abrupt endings. The moon was bright that night, so was the flame of my hope; bright as ever. I reminisce, I smile, I shake my head and then laugh at myself. If drinking wasn't bad, I'd be waving a bottle in my hand while I cry to miserable pop songs.

No, I'm not thinking about you. No, I'm not thinking about him either.

My skin is feeling hot. I'm a few shades darker again. Bikini lines are sexy as fuck? I think not. These marks will be there for a good long while... UGH! Even the ones from the Gold Coast are still there! And I thought the Sun here was horrible!

I look like roast pork. Red nose, red cheeks, crispy-coloured skin... A drunk would be more like it, considering the fact that my hair is unkempt and my eyes are barely open... Roast pork, it doesn't have hair and you bet, it looks neat on the dinner plate!

What am I saying...?

My nose... BURNS...! When I rub it.

I know, this isn't the first time I've posted Kazenagi here. :')

Why can I endure the things other people can't? Why don't I see what they see? Why can't I just comprehend the thoughts of the average human being, of you and I. 

Kiss the Rain

Emotional little me suddenly missed the tune of this song, and so I printed out the sheet music and started to play it. Somehow, it sounds like how I feel at the moment. I'm happy, grateful, I want to hold on to what I have, yet there's so much that can't be promised...

I don't know how to put my feelings into words-- I always don't. That's why I seek comfort and enlightenment in the music that I play... Candidly, I just deleted four paragraphs. I don't know if I'm lying to myself, or just afraid of telling the truth. 

Wake up, I tell myself. This dream is killing you. I know that very well. Sometimes, it's not that I don't know what's tearing me apart, I just don't want to admit it. I know damn well the thing that's suffocating me, tightening my chest, holding me down and making me ache... I just wished that something else was the cause of all this pain. 

You're like the rain. Something I love, something I'm grateful for that's in my life. Like all the joy these droplets bring, there are consequences. The clouds that gather on a rainy day; emotions that bring me down. The mud that stains my white shoes; the feelings that are impossible to wash away so soon. Dancing in the rain is like being in your embrace, I love it yet it's not something I should be doing. A brief moment of happiness, followed by days and days of pain. I ask myself if it's worth it. Why bother? I already know the answer. I just wish it was the other way around. 

I wonder if you'd turn away, after knowing how I really feel. 

I didn't think I'd lose myself this soon, you know? I'm such an idiot! I guess that's what I get for making Courage the Cowardly Dog my role model when I was younger! "The things I do for love!" that purple dog would exclaim every time he does something he'd rather not do-- all for the sake of his beloved Muriel. 

Albeit just days ago that I performed on stage, I miss playing Fate of the Gods. I want to do it again, and again and again and again and again! Even though my part is just... Meh... I still want to perform it. "Oh, I like my part, I just hold one note!" said no trombonist ever.

My mood's improving, thanks to a piggy back ride that didn't really exist.

You make me smile.

There's so much left to say, but... Sometimes, some things are better left unsaid. Not everything in life is meant to be understood. Another depressing quote that my mother post on my wall. Great. Thanks a lot, mum, now I just feel like crying in a corner. 

Excitement Turned Depressed

When I first heard the news that we were invited to Music of Harry Potter presented by MPO, my heart raced and every thought of the coming exam vanished from my head. I thought of you, of course. I remember you told me that you'd be watching it... I just forgot when.

For the last 30 minutes, I was excited. I saw the light shine through the thick clouds that have shrouded my world ever since you went away and  I ran towards it, hoping that I'd make it to tomorrow where I could see a new-born butterfly crawling out of it's cocoon. I thought I would be able to break the spell of darkness that has been cast upon my world... I was wrong.

I thought that the universe was on my side for once. I thought that the stars have arranged yet another meeting for us, letting me see you one last time before I move on... Didn't I challenged myself though? That I'd behave for the next 365 days? After all, patience is not about how long one can wait, but how well one behaves while waiting. I have no problem waiting, I just don't behave well when my goal is within my grasp but I can't claim it yet.

I ran upstairs so I could contact you. I wanted to ask you out on a date. That's all I wanted to do when I texted you.

Like before, you were everything I could think of when I get the chance to go to the big city. Shopping malls, dirty sidewalks, suffocating city air and the sweaty crowd, I didn't mind because you were there to guide me through the concrete jungle. Each turn, through narrow sidewalks and rusted stairs, you held my hand.

On the 11th I would go, on the 12th is your show... Alas, fate has decided that we should forever be apart. We were never meant to be together, not then, not now, not ever... You have always viewed me as someone who is not your equal. What more can be said?

During the fifteen minutes that took to come home, I couldn't stop thinking about how happy I'd be. The thought that followed was whether or not you'd be happy, so I stopped smiling and thought about how you burned everything we had to the ground with just three words...

Everything in this world is so fragile... or rather, even the things that look the strongest get torn away by harshness. Here's another haiku I thought of on the verge of tears:

Like a tsunami,

you washed away all I had,

swiftly, suddenly. 

Losing my Rose-Coloured Glasses

I don't know what to do anymore these days.

There isn't enough material to write a blog post, nor can I pull myself together to write something else other than my heartbreak. Study? Oh no, I don't want to because... I just don't want to.

All that I can do these days is cry.

For months I've been doing so. When I still had you, I cried. When I lost you, I cried. I've always wondered why babies cry, but now, I finally got my answer. I feel like I've just stepped into a new world, where everything is unknown to me. I'm lost. I don't know where to go and I can't find my guide; no one's holding my hand anymore. I cry. I cry in hopes that maybe you'll come back and carry me home... No, the tears that stream down my face are the lies that I once comfort myself with.

"It's never too late to make it right..."

WRONG.

It's too late for us.

I'm on a treadmill, unwilling to move forward and afraid of looking at the past. Still stuck at the time when we called it love, I avoid what has become my reality and build up false hopes that I will get you back again. That is why I cry. I know I will never get you back. I want to get you back.

Whenever I approach you now, it hurts. It feels absurd even. I don't know what's real and what's not anymore. You've become something that floats on the border of my sanity. You have died, yet I keep on looking for you, talking to you! This guilty pleasure of mine collapses on me a thousand folds, making me suffer and weep in your absence.

Where has that confidence of mine gone?

Weeks ago, words written boldly in green "I'm going to get you back" were written  by the same hand that is writing this blog post now.

I've lost my motivation.
I've lost my inspiration.

The only thing that's left is my imagination.


I regret nothing as I gave with love and trusted you then. I cry because I've lost my rose-coloured glasses and the feeling of assurance, not because of what you've done. I realise now that everything WAS beautiful. The afternoon sun, the buzzing of the fan, the old sofa set outside, the chirping of birds on the palm trees and the afternoon naps before practices... What was weather when I had you? What was time when you were by my side? What was anything at all when you were mine...

I'm not afraid of separation.
I'm just afraid of you ending up with someone else.

Days have gone by,
weeks have passed,
but my tears have yet to dry and you are still the reason why.

Thoughts in an Empty Shell

Thoughts in an Empty Shell 

Few days have gone,

much have changed,

yet once you have gone,

the house is empty again.

Now, 

you make me wonder who I am.

More heartbroken than I should have felt, 

more lonely than I thought I would be.

Cruel are the Gods.

I had lost everything I knew, 

then They sent you,

only to take you away so I'd fall yet again. 

Now,

I ask myself who I am.

Loner that feels no love?

One too broken and afraid to yearn for companionship.

Alone again,

not much have changed,

you are gone,

I am empty again. 

Now,

the night is quiet and still,

you are not here to call my name or lean or me...

Farewell, cousins! 

A Porridge Life

Plain. Staring directly at me is a bowl of white, watery rice. Porridge.

Life's like the bowl of porridge in front of me now. It isn't even hot. The more I taste it, the plainer it is. Then once in a while, I'd scoop up bits and pieces of scallops.

My days have become blur and meaningless. The scattered pieces of scallops are like invaluable memories that cross my mind without my permission. Sudden. Unpredictable.

I take a gulp of sickly sweet honey. It makes the porridge saltier. I could feel again, for that brief moment.

Honey is like a drug. It promises so much, but there's a catch. The dream it gives only lasts a second and before you know it, you'll find yourself in the place you were before: sitting down on a chair you've owned for 17 years, under a light barely bright enough to show you the room and a fan that's creaking, as if it's mocking what you've become.

The more I drink the saturated cup of honey, the worst I felt. The sweetness lingers on the tip of tongue but as it went deeper, the more bitter it became. Now, the sweetness is no more, the bitterness is gone, what's left is the sourness of reality.

The bowl is empty.
The cup is empty.

The ceiling fan continues to creak. The light flickers a bit.

I looked in the mirror.

A round table with six chairs. On one of them sat a girl in blue, who just had porridge filled in a blue bowl, honey filled in a blue plastic cup. How come everything is so blue? Coincidence? No. There is no such thing as coincidence; only the inevitable.

I stared.

The same blue shirt I wore when I first told you I love you.

The same blue shirt I wore when I thought my heart belonged to someone else.

The same blue shirt that made me realised I only had one heart. One which never left your side.

***

One more night...

Waves

As the wind blows,
you come crawling slow;
foams of whites and salt water.

Alone at dusk.
You come floating back,
making me look back at the disappearing footprints.

A moment of wishful thinking.
You came from the back of my mind,
vanished in front of my eyes.

Appearing before me,
I struggled with what's right,
but he's not my knight.

Alone again,
the Sun has set.
Find a match to light up the candle again.

Again I ran,
trying to forget and remember;
go back in time.

All the days of emptiness,
I say goodbye to you,
only to embrace you once more.

Ava

.Ava.

She smiled at me,

she came to me.

Asked for my name she did, 

called out my name she did.

Her eyes were the colour of the deep blue sea,

they looked into mine,

asking if I'd stay.

So close to me,

her smile was lovely.

Cheek to cheek,

she was wrapped around me.

Light as a feather,

my sweet Ava.

I was happy.

I was sad.

We would never meet again,

that I knew.

I couldn't say,

I knew too.

Time has come for me to leave,

yet she seemed so happy with another toy.

Indeed,

I was another toy,

for sweet little Ava.

I bid her farewell,

we would never meet again.

A hug;

I never looked back.

Water and sunshine on a summer's day,

ten days later she will forget;

ten years later she will change.

Like the breeze in summer

it was quick,

it was pleasing,

it would be forgotten.

Bundle of Thoughts

It's been more than a week since I came to Sydney. The first few days here, I didn't let him occupy my mind so much, but as the day passes, I found it harder and harder to leave him out of my mind although it should be the other way round. The photos from the 33rd Passing Out only made matters worse, reminding me of how cute he looks. Of course, the photos also burnt me, since I couldn't be with Zinc, Zongxu and a few of the bandies I consider as friends. I wished I was home, having fun with all of them. Somehow though, it's destined that I miss this year's Passing Out. Even if I was back in Sitiawan, I wouldn't be able to make it since my grandpa was lying in Ipoh Hospital, unconscious and weak.

Don't, don't let me go,

Don't let me hold on when you're not...

Don't, don't turn away,

What can I say so you won't?

Don't Let Me Go,

The Click Five

I miss Zinc. She's the only one I can talk to about my current problem. Although Johnson(Quah =-=) is my  brother/sister, I don't want to trouble him again with this pathetic topic. He's done enough, and I don't think he's quite happy helping me out though, since I know how annoying I can be. I don't usually share my problems with people because I'm afraid that they'd think me a burden. Yes, I'm self-conscious. The only person I really go to is xu, and he doesn't make me feel unwanted even though he sometimes hate me too~ Anyway, I can assure you guys that this will be the FIRST and LAST time I discuss my love affairs with my friends. I'm ashamed of myself for causing so much trouble *BOW*

At night, 

The town is quiet like the bottom of the ocean.

I continue down this road by myself,

Guided by a distant voice.

Ningyo Hime,

Rie Tanaka

Zongxu is away at church camp. I hate to break it to him now, but there exist something as 0.facebook.com. I guess that idiot has been drumming too damn much that he forgets the existence of some things that are sometimes useful. I'm slowly starting to miss my boyfriend, but to tell the truth, I'M MISSING MY PET EVEN MORE! 

Did I tell you guys that my Macadamia has acquired bed-climbing skills? Oh, nowhere is safe! My mum should be afraid, even more afraid! MUAHAHAHAHAHA! 

Sigh... I miss my Macadamia a lot. I wonder how she's doing without me. Is she stressing out? Is she losing fur and quills due to depression? Has she forgotten about me? Is she eating right? Is she cold? Oh... It's another three weeks before I can see my fragile little girl! 

In Sydney, I go to parks and lie down, look at the sky and listen to music to help me think.When I'm feeling up for it, I'd just lie on my belly and write my time away. I like it a lot here, and I feel at home.

When this day is through,

 I hope that I will find that tomorrow will be just the same for you and me.

All I need will be mine if you are here. 

Top of The World,

The Carpenters

Ah, Jay Chou, always there when I need to feel emotional. Night Song from his album November's Chopin never fails to make me lie down and think about my lovelife, the tune gives a sort of dark and hopeless mood; makes me feel like a person who has lost every meaning to live. Suga Shikao's Kazanagi is also a beautifully heart-breaking song, tears would always want to flood my eyes whenever it's on.

There's also a band that I listen to ten times a day when I'm feeling really down, and they're The Click Five. These few days, the songs Don't Let Me Go and Good As Gold are helping me to think. The two songs, each to think about specific people: my hard-to-forget wanna-be Korean and xu. 

Thinking that you probably had the intention in the very beginning,

I guess I shouldn't be bothered then; 

I won't even try to find out.

 Whom should I despise? 

What should I suppress away?

You, leaving without even a hand wave... 

 Actually, now, my chest keeps tensing up and up,

and my tear drops keep falling without restraint. 

Sorrow and ocean waves are alike, 

because they both come back and back again.

Will it slowly leave some day,

Just like a deformed nailed being pulled off?

 Kazanagi,

Suga Shikao

Leaving Soon

I'm a bad title giver. Almost every post here has a title that doesn't sound like a title at all! During the times where I'm really lazy to think of a title, I just leave it blank.

Anyway, there is a naked baby dancing and singing in front of me. I'd like to take a photo for you pedophiles, but... NO. To please you though, here is a clothed picture of my lovely cousin. I'm using my mobile to blog, so I don't know where the picture will end up!

It's a rainy Saturday afternoon, my thoughts are still clear amidst the shrill sounds of screaming little demons called babies. I dislike babies. Babies dislike me. What could be the problem? I thought I'm cute as well? Never mind what I just said; was just being a bit -okay, very- thick-skinned.

My days here are coming to an end. It won't be long before I hop on the bus that would take me back to the place I call home...

Sigh...

It's not that I don't miss home... Okay, well, since Macadamia is here with me, I have nothing else left to worry about... Bah! That's not the point! It's just that I have nothing to go back to. My mum and little sis are enjoying life without me, my friends are the last ones I'd want to see and the band is the one thing that I never want to remind myself of. I have responsibilities; that's why I'm even going back.

I know that I can't back out now, so I might as well get this over with and quit the band the next chance I get! Is that what I really want? Hahaha! Of course it isn't. I want to stay, because it's the only thing I've ever known and joined. It's like a love-hate relationship. There are reasons why I want to continue being in this tormenting body and those reasons are more valid than why I want to leave.

I have low self-esteem, almost no motivation at all and I don't feel happy around the people there. I already separate my private life from the band, but after practices, they(the feelings of dissatisfaction towards people)come back and slap me, reminding me of how nobody really cares.

I'm going back. Don't say you miss me, because I know you don't. I Skyped you on your birthday, your card is still with me. I'm unsure if I should give it to you, with my letter intact. I wrote the truth. Not the happiest of all things.

Ah, today, I'm blogging from something a little larger, my cousin's iPad. Yes, I am using something from Apple, the one brand that I hate most; I'm techcist against it. I call a MacBook a MacBitch.        

While people back home are practicing their ass off for this year's TIMBC, I'm in a quiet neighbourhood that's far away from home, watching Mickey Mouse and Friends in my pyjamas, blogging at the same time. Macadamia seems to feel comfortable here as well, sleeping in anything that she can find. She doesn't seem stressed at all and she isn't losing any fur or quills. All is good except for the fact that I have no idea where to look for her poo and pee. This morning, my aunt even stepped on her shit! I don't know what's wrong, but she isn't shitting as much and I don't see her urine anywhere! Ah well, the cleaning lady is here; I am saved.

I gave my one-year-old baby cousin a bath last night. It feels weird to wash someone else's private parts, even if the person is just a baby. She must have felt ticklish when I washed her "down there" since she laughed. Truth be told, I felt like a fucking pervert molesting a little girl T^T

I just noticed that there's a line under F and J on this keypad. Why, did Apple think that blind people could feel them? Jjjjjjjjjjj well, I don't feel anything! Or do the lines have other purposes? Decorations, maybe?

Blogging every so often like how I used to shows that I have nobody to talk to. For the past year or so I haven't been active on here, but recently, things have changed and I find myself back here, talking to myself. Such a lonely world this is. When you don't have the time for something, you shouldn't do it, am I right? You shouldn't keep that task on your waiting list. It's selfish to do so, especially if it involves something that has a beating heart. If you choose to love something, make time for it even if you don't have time. I chose to love my pet, I chose to bring it home, and I always- no matter how tired or busy- have the time for it. I clean up after its shit and I still love it. There is one big difference between you and Me: I make time for my loves whatever the situation and you don't; you're a victim of situations, you depend on them.

Sigh... Sorry, just a moment of anger towards a person who supposedly loves me.

Anyway, in this ever so lonely world, even babies hate me; I dislike those whining creatures too so I guess it's only fair that they don't want me to hold their hands. My parents can kiss goodbye to grandchildren! If things get worse, they can kiss goodbye to a son-in-law as well but say hi to a petting zoo! Yay! My mum would never come visit me if I end up turning my house into a zoo; that woman is scared of just about anything that has fur and four legs. Also, she thinks that my lovely hedgehog is disgusting! I should be offended!

Why did I even choose to blog in the afternoon? I'm getting lonelier than I think! This isn't a very good thing to be proud of but it is true that I hate human companionship because not many comprehend my hot and cold personality. I have friends, yeah, but all they care about is whether or not I go to band practice. Even if I died, these people wouldn't even find out until they come to perform at my fucking funeral. Yes, in my eyes, my friends are like that. Unreliable.

Time for my afternoon sleep.

I do not nap; I sleep.  

Bernie

Now, I want you guys to watch the movie, Bernie, and tell me what you think. In order for you guys to understand what I'll be writing, it's better to read about the story first. Here is the link to our favorite website, Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernie_Tiede. Well if you want to skip the whole article then I'll briefly tell you what it's about.

It's based on a true story, the movie; it's about a murder that happened 16 years ago in Carthage, Texas. 38-year-old Bernie Tiede had shot a 81-year-old widow, Marjorie Nugent, in the back four times. I had tears in my eyes when the jury pledged Bernie guilty in court; with Macadamia in my hand, I shouted at the screen "HOW COULD YOU! IT ISN'T FAIR! FUCK YOU! PUT YOURSELF IN HIS SHOES!" and I totally ignored my Ruffles and Ribena.

Here is the real-life interview:

I disagree with Bernie killing Mrs. Nugent because of greed. He didn't want her money. Mrs. Nugent's will stated clearly that after she dies, Bernie would inherit everything. Ah, but Mrs. Nugent was already giving him everything, they went on holidays together and he even had the rights to access her bank accounts so greed is indeed an invalid motive. I think I'd make a better investigator than that guy with the funny looking brows.  Of course, another reason why I say that the motive wasn't greed is because if it was, Bernie would be spending the money on himself instead of on other people. He used Mrs.Nugent's money to HELP those in need, not spend it like there's no tomorrow! So what if Bernie had fantasized about Mrs.Nugent's death even before the shooting? Still it wasn't because of greed. She was just too possessive. 

Also, being cultural didn't have anything to do with the murder. Hmph. 

Now, about those relatives of Mrs.Nugent. They fought with her, hadn't talked to her in decades! Even sued her once. But when she died, they all showed up, and even sued Bernie for using her money? Now isn't that funny? To me, it's clear that they are the greedy ones. It's not Mrs.Nugent they cared about, it was her wealth, her properties. If they cared about bitchy old Mrs.Nugent, they wouldn't have ignored her for the past decade or so. One of them even said that Bernie was the one who distanced Mrs.Nugent away from them? Hah, from what I saw, Mrs.Nugent was already out of their lives way before Bernie came along. 

Bernie was a church-goer, a man of the Lord. A man I would find repulsive because of his faith, and kindness. That is why him going to prison and sentenced for life is unacceptable! How can you put a man like that behind bars? It is true that he shot a poor old lady in the back four times, but it was a moment of mental disorder. They could have gave him a less severe sentence. Honestly, I do not understand how the law works, but I hate it. Hey, in my country, rapists get bail for as low as ten thousand dollars and when you kill a robber out of self defense, you get charged for murder. Kind of fucked-up don't you think?

Anyway, Mrs. Nugent was a control freak. She became so possessive of Bernie, he couldn't even leave her for a second! She used him as basically everything! He cooked for her, did her laundry, gave her manicures/pedicures, went everywhere with her, worked for her and all... Really, even I couldn't stand it during the movie. Bernie snapped. Shot her. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. It was over before he knew it. Then he stuffed her in the freezer, to preserve her body so that he could give her a proper burial if condition permitted. 

Nobody, no matter how bitchy or evil deserves to get shot. I know. But what if you were in Bernie's shoes? Huh? I'm sure guys would relate to the issue better, since overly attached girlfriends are all over the place. Your overly-attached-girlfriend problem is only a pea compared to Bernie's Mrs.Nugent. It is legally wrong to shoot a person, but if it was a momentarily psychological problem, then it's plausible. 

It's true that Bernie could have left Mrs.Nugent's side any time he wanted to, he couldn't because he was too  kind. He was a sissy, to put it simply. Many people might not understand that, but I do. I know how it feels when you just can't bring yourself to leave a person no matter how bad he or she treats you. 

I'm distracted right now as I'm on the phone, so I guess I'll have to end it here.

Anger, when it gets bottled up, you will snap, and you will regret.

All About Apple-nee

We've all fell for this girl at least once in our high school days, and we have no idea why either. What's so special about her, I wonder. I wouldn't call her the prettiest flower in the garden, but somehow she makes you notice her like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. She's not the smartest either, and above all, not a people-person.

Apple-nee is petite for her age, with breasts barely the size of mini Chinese steamed buns and a height about 5'5''. She has a fair complexion that doesn't seem to darken even after being under the Sun , but her face isn't as smooth as we imagine it to be. At a glance, you'd think that she's a princess--when she's sitting still anyway--innocent and naive; it is an entirely different story when she's actually doing something. Once you get to know her, you'll know that she's not lady-like at all but in fact rough, careless, short-tempered, emotional and somewhat immoral, just like the rest of us.

I remember her touch, albeit it was just only a poke to tease that lasted merely one second. It was cold, tender and gentle, something you'd expect from a girl like her. We were only together for that short period of time; we weren't close, and we still aren't but my feelings of admiration and jealousy still remains from the first day that I met her.

The first time I lay eyes on her? It was like a dream. I was walking back with my head down, then I decided to raise my head to see where I was actually going and I saw her, just sitting there staring out at the field; the evening Sun made her skin glow, her silky hair waved to and fro along with the breeze. You could call it love at first sight, I suppose. If I were a painter, I would have painted that scene and I would paint it every time I miss her just to remind myself that she's an angel beyond my reach.

I only saw her cried once. I stood there and did nothing, didn't even go near her. I couldn't; people were surrounding her already. I wonder if it'd make a difference though, not like she'd remember... But she stood up for me once... Let's not go into that.

Apple-nee could be reading this post right now; it's best that she's still stupid enough to not acknowledge that 'Apple-nee' is in fact her, and start feeling detested, thus avoiding me. Maybe she's disgusted already, that I'm really like this, that I have feelings for a girl. She was the one who gave me the wrong impression of her in the first place. I found out a year later through a friend that she is in fact straight. I wouldn't call myself a lesbian though, I have a boyfriend, and she is the only female that I have loved for so long... Anyway, are there any cute bisexuals or lesbians in the Ave Maria Convent band?

There is another girl who is giving me wrong impressions, but I will save that for next time since this one is closer to me although she is as playful, daring and random as Apple-nee... Hmm...

I will not tolerate you guys for bitching about my sexual orientation. I'm bisexual. Live with it. Asian community.

Whenever you call out my name, 

it's always a bit flirty,

thank you. 

Dark Ages of my Passion

Sigh...

I've been through this depressing phase before, but I was never as depressed as I am now. What's the problem? I'm not even sure.

I always went back; I was enthusiastic. Now, I just stay at home, waiting for time to pass as I lie on my bed deciding, contemplating. I need time to think, not people to give me warnings. In fact, I'd very much like it if I get kicked out because then, I won't have to explain why I want to leave.

For the past year or so, I told myself to stay because quitting would be a waste--not a mistake-- since I've been in the band for quite some time already. As I dragged on longer, the time I needed to serve got shortened, making leaving an even harder and unworthy a choice.

I know that you feel disheartened already, Apple-nee. To you, the band comes first and all else comes after--or at least that's how it was-- I wonder how you feel and what are your thoughts. It's funny, that you're reading this and wondering who this Apple-nee is when it is in fact you but you're the only one oblivious to what I call you when the rest of the world already knows; I could be wrong, you could have found out; you could have known all this while that you are the one that I am guiltily thinking of.

Things would be bad if my batch's band-obsessed tuba player finds out that yet another one of his friends has lost passion. The guy would be more emotional than I am right now, ignoring people and sitting in a lonely corner with his head down as if he's the one going through this whole dilemma.

My boyfriend is busy with his own life and is frustrated with his own things, unable to hear me out. Actually, I prefer to settle band-related issues by myself because the boyfriend usually make things worse tenfold, and we end up arguing afterwards.

Ah, my brother is back.

Ah, my hedgehog is climbing on top of things she shouldn't fucking go near.

I'm sorry, I'm frustrated...

ARGH! Macadamia just nipped the tissue paper again! Great. Now, she's climbing all over my incense, topping candle holders over... Just blocked the entrance to my candle collection with a teddy bear... MUAHAHAHA NOW SHE CAN'T ENTER! I think she decided to make my candle corner her home... Oh well...

The most unlikely of people texted me. I ended up telling him I was depressed, and we all know I don't usually share my problems with other people--just my journals and occasionally my blog--but he said that friends should look out for each other and that's exactly what he did. His texts were full smileys, a feminine arrangement with a woman's choice of words; it made me feel like I was talking to a girl bestfriend T^T One that I could only dream of having. Thank you, it meant a lot =) and oh, thanks for being the only person who lets me take their scooter for a ride xD

Time to say goodnight.

I'm obsessed with playing D-flat major songs lately. The five flats excite me so much.

Samedi (Saturday) Post

I landed myself on a part-time job as a librarian. I guess this is my first part-time job... But if you count being a translator at Obsession Scans a part-time job as well, then I guess being a librarian would be my SECOND job... Hmm...

I don't know what I want to write actually... We all know that I can't write with seriousness about myself because little me just isn't the practical type. Sometimes, I wonder if knocking my head too often when I was a baby loosened the screws in my head. 

I only work once a week, 4 to 5 hours on Saturday. The very kind and understanding owner of Smalltown-Books, Mr.Ing, says that I should focus on my schoolwork instead. I didn't tell him that I don't do my homework though, in case he thinks I'm a very irresponsible person... Well, there aren't any homework to begin with. I like being at the store; surrounded by more than 3000 books just makes me feel at home. My job is simple, and I get to read so many books... I'm so happy I could die! Although, looking through the bookshelves did give me a major headache... This could be a great start for me to improve my writing and find my own unique style of telling the story.

I learnt some French today =D

French sounds really fancy, probably because they add 'la', 'le' and 'les' in front of EVERYTHING... Almost everything... I actually don't know what the 'la', 'le' and 'les' are for, but if I guessed correctly then 'la' means the, 'le' is singular and 'les' is plural... I don't know... I read a French book for kids!

Today's post title also has a French word in it. Yep, 'Samedi' is Saturday in French. 

Bread is called 'le pain' in French. I told Zongxu that I wanted some 'le pain' and he smacked me--through the phone. Shorts are called 'le shorts'... I know... They just add a 'le' in front to make it sound all fancy, Haha. Cookies are called 'le biscuit'... Candies are called 'bonbons', which in my opinion, sounds really cute. Shower is called 'douche', which reminds me of douche-bags, and soap is 'savon'. An apple would be 'le pomme' and a pear is 'le paire', if I'm not mistaken. Ah, and a cat is 'le chat' which sounds a whole lot fancier than the evil creature deserves! Kittens are... well... 'les chatton'... Acorns are called 'le bud' for some reason. Ah, let's not forget 'le escargot', which means snail in English. Oh, oh, and 'le fromage'(cheese). 

Okay, I'll stop now. I want some bonbons. 

I wonder if I should take up French, haha. Looks easier than Japanese. A whole lot easier. I think I kinda get how French works already... It sounds kinda stuck up actually, the person who invented it must be a really proud person because it sounds like everything is being scorned at, that's what I think anyway. I haven't read about the French language on Wikipedia. 

My, my, it's getting late and I'm getting sick. I wonder if I am fit to parade tomorrow.

...

I lost you,

where are you,

I can't see you,

where is the light?

Turn on the lights,

I'm going round in circles,

just looking for you.

I can't feel anything,

I'm feeling with my hands,

where are the walls,

where are the floors?

Can't you hear me calling you?

Can't you feel my desperation and loneliness?

Where are you, I ask you again.

It's wet.

It's warm.

A dim light shines.

I see you.

You're lying on the floor,

knife in your hand.

It's your blood I felt.

I stand there.

I drop to my knees...

...

Well, how was that little thing I just wrote? It was inspired by the song 'Not Tomorrow' from the OST of Silent Hill. I've been playing that song on the piano since yesterday, and I just needed to express it with some words... I still haven't completed Silent Hill because I'm too scared to continue. I need someone to play with me, so I don't get scared alone!