We are turning into dust.

Reality doesn't impress me

Sometimes I feel like I've become so disconnected from the entire social scene that it is getting more and more difficult to do anything. Ish. Stupid comfort zone. The deeper I get, the more I see for myself that school is just another plastic world. Not that I didn't already know that. Sigh sigh, honey pie. I am regretting this elective choice already. And I am not being melodramatic! Okay fine, just a little. This weekend was an epic explosion. Endless fantasies, surprisingly simple places and colorful skies. Escaping reality brings so many consequences though. I think we need to get out more often. Hurhur. Time has such a way of twisting and turning itself into something we cannot fathom, something we cannot catch. To think, all I wanted was everything to stop spinning.

Rose, I'm feeling older.

Tell me that you love me more

Floating on the brink of everything isn't much fun at all. Deviating from feelings and real conversation leaves a gaping hole between me and the world. Late night messages mean nothing to me by morning. And maybe they mean nothing to you at all. Nights are filled with internal battles. Fleeting moments of fear and unfulfilled desire for companionship. Days are spent having empty conversation and not-going-to-school. Bleak. Once again I have proved myself the least filial child. Oops. Everyday company is no where near as important to me as non-everyday company. Maybe this is what they call the dreaded drift. Or maybe this is just me isolating myself. Or maybe it really isn't me at all. Hurhur. This isn't a blame game, this is just me searching for the truth, the source of this emptiness. Disinterest is a two-way street, I must admit. Insomnia is so fucking damaging.

We all look like we feel.

I'll wake up in an empty bed,

Drowning in your shirt and scent.

In the kitchen; Bacon and Eggs.

And you'll kiss me and tell me

That even this early in the morning,

I'm pretty.

Over lunch at our favorite cafe,

(The one where we make our own salad)

You'll watch me sip quietly on coffee

from behind your papers, and say that

With the flower in my hair,

I'm pretty.

In the evening light,

We'll make love, like we always do.

And in between your tender touch

and long, strong strokes,

You'll push back my hair,

kiss me on the forehead and tell me

I'm pretty.

And at 4 in the morning,

I'll have a secret cigarette by our window.

Crawl back to bed when I'm done,

Kiss you gently on the cheek

And watch you sleep.

And then I'll whisper sadly in your ear

That you are the best part of me,

And that maybe, one day,

I'll actually believe you

When you tell me I'm pretty.

Mad Girl's Love Song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

I lift my lids and all is born again.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,

And arbitrary blackness gallops in:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:

Exit seraphim and Satan's men:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,

But I grow old and I forget your name.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes they roar back again.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

- Sylvia Plath

Voyeurism is lonely too

I don't even know where to start. With that much space to breathe, I am surprised that I have recently started developing breathing difficulties. Maybe I am actually developing pneumonia. Hurhur. Watching us grow up and apart left a strange swirl of envy and comfort. I guess somehow, there really isn't much difference. In every possible way. I've delayed this post for so long that I now have nothing much to say. Except that my mother stalking me = frantic cabbing and run, run, running (alone). What else is new. School is more of a hazard to me than anyone else. The amount of fear, apprehension and money that I have spent attempting to wrap my head around the idea is.. tolling, to say the very least. As always, the dread is overwhelming as the notion of angsty, mundane days (all spent alone) becomes to overbearing to ignore. This weekend was supposed to be the last blow-out before school begins. And what a blow it was. Ha. Insomnia plagues the best of us as I lay awake at 4am every morning (alone), wondering exactly how long I've been gone. And questions of what if you weren't you and I wasn't me. Just because I don't use it, doesn't mean I haven't sacrificed everything to end up doing this alone.

I think I made you up inside my head.

And I'm never giving it back

Sometimes we need to see past the protective film we cover ourselves with to get to the real thing. The real issue, the real feelings, the real deal. Sometimes we get so safe inside this film that we need someone to lift it for us, to remind us that life isn't just about getting high or getting more. And by that I don't mean protection (hawhaw), I mean looking out for, being there for and having coffee with. A kickback to the old days. A comforting night indeed, and without a new bag too! Hurhur. On the other hand, we face more trials and tribulations but I must admit it does seem to be dwindling. And I am grateful. Unlike most people, my protective film consists of only seeing the bad, like the hole in the door and then the shards that come with it. Defenses are the same across the board I reckon and I too need someone to lift the veil. I guess it will never be soon enough. Permission to grow. Not that I am really complaining. Hmm. On a completely unrelated note, there is always just something so romantic and perfect about breakfast. And Chanel.

You're changing your heart.

You won't even know I'm gone.

I knew it.

Just like an angel off the page

So my days have been filled with snot and a lot of other unidentifiable stuff clogging my nose. The hospital is not my friend. It's just a kold, I always say! Hurhur. Weekend has brought lessons of how attitude really changes everything. And questions of dependency. And yet another epic illness. Thus resulting in a four-day holiday from work! Three more days motherfuckers! They hate me there anyway. Hehe. The last day off was spent at Sentosa, where it always rains on my parade. Next week may or may not see me in a foreign land, much like it may or may not bring an exorbitant buy. Spontaneity has never been more planned! Hurhur. Need is such a.. desperate word. I'd like to think I'd just rather have it the way I do, though I must admit comfort is always where it stems from. To be honest, I have somewhat been in a daze recently. What time is it? What day is it? What am I really doing with my life? AND I have been having nothing but queer dreams lately. I blame the medication!

Now I'm stuck

in the web you're spinning.

And I say it's all right

Little darling,

It's been a long cold lonely winter.

Little darling,

It feels like years since it's been here.

Here comes the sun.