or nothing

back to reality

true romance

Just a glimpse of our honeymoon #europe2013. Glorious days flitting in and out of shops, eating our way through yummy restaurants, getting stared down as we strut the fabulous streets of Paris and generally writing over Paris 2011. Motherfucker. I can't believe I'm not even home yet and things seem to already be exploding. Home in one two three four days and I wanna kill myself. Nothing to look forward to but heat and reality. I love being in the UK where nothing is real, where all we do is shop and enjoy and pretend.

in this hell of a season

welcome back to the United Kingdom:

where nothing is real

what it means to fly

high in holland

NICE > MARSEILLE > LYON

French adventure #1 is winding down to a close. Last night is Lyon, a wonderful city that's like Paris but not like Paris. Yes, that was truly the best description ever. From the amazing and breath-taking French Riviera of where we could be and where I was to the bustling yet serene (yes that's the word I'm going with) city, I've never felt more lucky or more grateful. My mind is rattling with memories of.. everyone, really. I have waaaaay too many unresolved issues. Well, I guess I can attribute you to merely being the most recent one, right? See also: most troublesome one. Ironically, I can't seem to remember much about you. The images are definitely not as vivid as the other two. Right now, I am seething with jealousy and indignant and bitterness.. but I am going to blindly attribute it to pms (i hope). I want to be where you are and that makes me want to kill myself. Hopefully, our Parisian adventure will keep my mind off this disgusting case of FOMO and insecurity (seriously, this doesn't even make sense). BUT MOVING ON. Well, not really lah. Moving back, I mean. I don't know why you're fucking in all my fucking dreams but it pisses me off and I hate you #matured. How about no. See also: don't you have a fucking girlfriend or something? (I've had to say this waaaaaay too often lately and I want to die). Do not misread this bitterness for having feelings and what not. It simply stems from the bitterness of having precisely what I didn't want to happen happen. And on to the next one.. or well. The first one. It doesn't even matter to me anymore that once again you have disappeared, because the truth is I know you will always come back. But all these images of you and I have been dancing through my mind as I stroll the winding streets of this city. Strangely, although you are the furthest away in time and space, these thoughts of you leave me with a sense of peace. The only thing you could do for me is to give me something to come home to. But I guess, not this year sweetheart.


Take me to where you are and wha you've become
and what you will do when I am gone

FOMO

because what goes around simply comes back around

a girl's not a tonic or a pill

The above are the miscellaneous days in Birmz before the end - our happy spring picnic day, getting high in the afternoon because we can and the lazy night with the great escape. The truth is things were not any easier back then. I still flinch every time a phone rings, every time the absence lingers and every other time I sleep. Right now, I am thinking about you and it makes me wanna kill myself. But that's enough of that for now. In the recent weeks, there has been many interesting attempts at reconnections that have shaken me. The first of which is, well. Roaming around Monte Carlo today, I remembered thee and the nights we spent together before the dreaded move. Walking in the cold rain, I suddenly felt an intense ache in my stomach, and it felt exactly like it did in Amsterdam. I remember when I first left and how mad I was that I had let you best me once again and how bitter I was to have fallen for it once more. The problem with this is that I absolutely adore you. I love talking to you about absolutely nothing and the undeniable tension between us and as much as I hate it most of the time, also pretending that nothing has changed. Perhaps its a Lolita complex thing, perhaps its just the idea of you I've alway harbored. Heck, perhaps it's simply the familiarity of it all. Whatever it is, you still mean so much more to me than you could guess (although I'm sure you could guess) and I wish you would come home soon. So that's that. The next one gives me a fucking stroke. It's funny how far away it seems, yet really not at all. Funnily enough I was trekking my way up a mountain of sheep and all these angry thoughts were recurring in my mind and I remember thinking: I am at the top of the fucking world, why am I obsessing over this? And now we know. Coming home to an semi-disturbing message and thinking "really meh?". It's disgusting how you are. What truly fucking pisses me off is that it makes me look fucking bad, it fucking embarrasses me that I have ever put up with any of your crap because you're simply such a pathetic person. Right. I'm over thinking about this. Tonight, my heart is quite literally all over the world. Mao.


so one last touch and then you'll go,
and we'll pretend that it meant something so much more