now that we have come to the end of 2005, i will do the cliche of making a list.

who would have thought:
- i would be driving people around with a licence
- i am able to talk to strangers without any qualms when i am in the mood
- i find soft snow flakes on a not so cold morning pleasant
- i would succumb to wearing heels for more than 2 hours for the sake of vanity
- i would enjoy shovelling snow as the cold numbs me inside and out
- i would have to beg someone to love me the way i thought i should be
- i would make more friends in sg more than in canada while being in canada
- i would still be lonely
- i could work almost everyday for long and tiring hours at a sales job without breaking down so far
- working distracts me from my emotions, which then allows the illusion of rationality. or maybe engaging in the mainstream society is rationality?
- i would hate life and the world this much.
- i would love and want this much and not get it back
- i would find shopping as pathetic and superfiial consolation that ends up making me feel like shit anyhow
- i would still spend endless days alone, and still feel the impact of it
- i would bring in dough!
- i would realise i might never have you, nor everything i want

.. to be continued.

i think you might be right, ronald, to say that im cursed.

cursed to either be stuck with someone i totally do not want to be stuck with, or wanting to be stuck with someone i cant have. at least, never in the present.

but sometimes i cant take the waiting.

what can i say. i do not regret anything. i would not say i would swap this hurt for moving on from one empty relationship to another, which i know i would do if i hadnt been truly stolen. the cliched search for the worshipper, the friend, the worshipped. the person i would clip wings on.

did i make a mistake u ask? perhaps i did, to have knowingly put myself in this position, and anticipating this explosion that nevertheless took me by suprise. maybe its my own fault that i cry hot tears of frustration so freely, my fists clenched so angrily like a disgruntled child who did not get what she wants, out of desperation, overwhelmed by disappointment. maybe it was my fault this was foreseen and i did nothing to prevent it. i cannot even deny my previous urge to give myself insurance, to hesitate and save myself. but i gave in one and a half years ago. what would i be if i had not?

i hate being held away at a distance because of inevitable reasons. i always hated not being in control, not completely understanding, to not be completely understood. nothing to do to fill up the gapping hole but to embrace my irrational emotions and simply cry. helplessly like a girl. the one indulgence i gave up fighting at moments like these.

often i wonder if i am meant to just collect promises, glowing stars i hold close and never get to redeem them. i only hope. maybe one day you wont have to leave me the way u did on those crazy summer mornings, rainy fall afternoons, yesterday, the day before, this evening, sighing, alone, loneliness annouced by a dramatic hush of silence that falls. sometimes even to hear u didnt want to after 6 hours no longer hold consolation for the damage already done.

i am still waiting. forgive me if i become a girl once in a while. this searing abandonment has yet to leave, distractions are hard to find here and loneliness does take some time to get used to.i guess i have to start picking up the pieces from the bottom again.

Catalyst - Anna Nalick

L.A. lights never shine quite as bright as in the movies
Still wanna go
There's something here
In the way, in the way that we're constantly moving
Reminds you of home
So you've taken these pills
For to fill up your soul
And your drinking them down with cheap alcohol
I might be inclined to be yours for the taken
And part of this terrible mess that you're making
But me, I'm the catalyst

When you say love is a simple chemical reaction
Can't say I agree
Cuz my chemical, yeah, left me a beautiful disaster
Still love's all I see

You'll be the thing
You'll be the pain
You'll be the star
You'll be the road, rolling below
The wheels of a car
And all of the thoughts, oh god
Don't know if I'm strong enough now
You'll be the thing
You'll be the pain
You'll be the
Catalyst

These L.A. lights, no no,
They don't shine quite as bright as back in Frisco
Do you wanna go?
Still wanna go

...

i dont know where i am going.

...

i admire the truly self absorbed. i am one of them i know, the world revolving around my own selfish pain, sucking everything into a blackhole. believing the world has my heart chained and wrapped barbed wire, dragging it along the ground as it moves in a way i cannot comprehend.

i admire the ones who truly believe in the face value, the ones who party and drink and shop endlessly, with bonds held significantly by those activities itself, and find that their lives are full. those who believe the world moves with purpose, that everything we do isnt written in ash from the burned souls. the ones who can only talk about themslves, insist everyone cares and their stories relevant and important. those who believe the lousy cliche that "actions speak louder than words".

they both work in parallels dont you think?

i
am
defeated.

i guess you will never feel what i feel.

Winter
The beginnings of frosted windows, breaths plumes of vapor against the grey skies, and numb, chapped lips. Constantly fleeing from the merciless winds that make me forget how to live. Ice crystals in my wet hair early in the morning at the bus stop as I watch you look away.
Days that begin too late and end too early.
Long nights I crave and pine for the warmth of your skin. Just for you to be close enough.

Tears
from the sky. Snow flakes plummeting and rushing into my reluctant face.
Tears overflowing messily and continuously from my eyes.
Today, my heart can only hold so much.

Superheroes
You are my superhero. The one with flames at your finger tips, thorns in your eyes, wine and knives in your words, and in the sound of your leaving.
Superheroes fight the battle of good versus evil. Beowulf swam for weeks in the sea, receiving torques of gold and honorary goblets of mead.
Good princes fight dragons with emerald scales and glowing eyes, and scorching breaths.
I am not good. Nor am I evil. Why do I feel like I am fighting to find you?

Why
the overwhelming desire to share the dull agenda of daily life?

Ordinary
Normal, usual, same, sane, accepted, understood, unafraid.
I never mean it when I say I am just an ordinary girl. I may look like one, but they are the lucky ones.

"I would like to think that what we have could exist outside of real time, that it could be a thing apart and not invade. Foolish and dangerous thinking. It has already invaded every part of my life" - Anita Shreve, The Last Time They Met.

im stupid, obsese and ugly. why would anyone care? maybe i do deserve being the way i am. maybe i do deserve to spend the whole of my life in tears, angry, jealous, depressed, skeptical, cynical. maybe i deserve to loathe myself the way i do. maybe i am going to spend the whole of my life self conscious and then angry that i am self conscious. maybe i am going to spend the rest of my life pinning. maybe i will always be lonely and misunderstood. not that being understood will make me less angry. i will still be angry that i am the way i am.

maybe i deserve to spend my whole life watching the clock. waiting for something to happen. something that would make me forget the time.
all
i
am
doing
is
waiting for you.

"I envy everyone. I feel I don't deserve any of what little I have. I wonder when I came to hate myself so much. I envy people that can go around ignorant to everything. I envy the perfect plastic people that I will never become a part of. I envy happy people. I envy people that don't want to die, and haven't had to consider dying as their best option for future happiness. Was it all worth it in the end? Is it ever worth it? Is anyone ever truly happy?"

" i didnt get along with my parents either, but at least i didnt know anything better or anywhere else, except the bloody icy playground and streets around my home. But Zulma? she talked of beaches and blue sea, sunshine and coconut trees, and days being so hot the asphalt would melt, and a gran who thought she was the most important person in the world. If i were in her shoes i would have gone mad, or maybe run away, but she didnt. At least she had me" - Harriet's Daughter, Marlene Nourbese Philip

thats what friends are for

maybe i will never understand the words, the intoxication and ecstasy you hold obliviously in your hands. maybe you wouldnt. But i will never forget.

you are my everything.

its been a long time since i blogged. seems like i never really had the time nor the energy to. the past weeks have been occupied by essay writing.. searching for comfort amongst the endless and yet familiar corridors of york campus.. the nagging reluctance to drag myself to work where i would smile and talk with false confidence... all in the drowsy cloud of the lack of sleep, emotions, insecurities and urges that tug and pull at obligations, the descend of faltering warmth, falling leaves, black coffee fumes at 6 in the morning, my headlights flinging beams of light forward into the grey.

the same old.

thoughts fill my mind. i just cant seem to write them down. yet. perhaps.

just some funny pictures me and dawne took today.

"this sense of disjunction between them seemed stronger than ever to him, a saddness. it seemed to come out of the ground, out of the damp hay and blossom scents, out of the brances of new leaves: a saddness and yes, a sense of deepening vulnerability. like a trapeze artist, he had abandoned his swing to throw himself into the air towards her. He had to be sure her hands were there to catch him. Perhaps, he wondered with a kind of terror, she was warning him off love in an attempt to get him back to her perch. But it was already too late. He was tumbling through the air, his arms outstretched, his hands open." - The Island walkers, john bernrose.

what a gorgeously sad paragraph.

i really should stop reading random books instaed of doing my homework. for the past 3 or 4 days i have been read about 5 novels.. 2 of which i read twice, not counting On the Road for my essay. like woh. havent done that in a while.

im deprived of attention. :( im like those pathetic miserable toddlers sitting sullenly at the corner of the daycare feeling anti social and tired of tryin to get attention instead of having it come to me. hmph. :..(

maybe i really should pick up tv for good. at least it talks to me without me having to prompt.

aww _@*_)($#@$@ i got work tomorrow.

why does everything i do in life feels like a bloody obligation and all i feel is just so effin tired.

i crave bubble tea. winter melon red tea with aloe vera :( i SULK.

I SULK. :(

"You're an academic.

"Not even close. Academics follow a train of thought. They specialize. i see a book on dressage or beekeeping or Elizabethan footwear, and i have to check it out. I'm not a gourmet, i'm a glutton. It's a sickness."" - Balloon, Tim Wynveen

the anarchy of desire.

a very weird thing to think about in the shower but yes, i was thinking about the little letter a professor from Queens university being disappointed in her white students who would become racist and everything politically incorrect and indignified at the drop of a beer keg. wonderful for someone to be so passionate about her work, i thought as i inhaled the yummy sweetness of my shampoo.

then i thought, in her sense, being dedicated to her work would mean passion for intellectual material, education. which i have come to convince myself is merely like what the ancient greeks said knowledge was - a way to conquer the body. AND then it lead to the thought of how ironically it is the most educated, most composed and rational that suddenly decides to fling caution(so only certain extents, funnily enough) to the wind and celebrate sensuality.

poems, music, stories, actions, broken rules, morales then gush from this stream of thought.

then at moments where a person is stripped of the educated consciousness, all has gone to hell.

hmm. how ironic.

well, whatever.

today, i have been abused and vandalised and trapped in a hideous cement cage. in other words, given burises for saying im flubbery(which is true. i feel terrible about it too), drawn on really nicely with a blue pen and sat in the worst plastic creaky chair ever made for mankind at scott library for 5 hours almost. needless to say, i got depressed within the first 1.5 hours. sorry hammy, i've been so depressed lately it probably bothers you as hell. MWAH.

silence and frustration just jumbles itself up deep deep inside and u feel so heavy. your arms and legs and brain slows down and all u know is you are going crazy. everything is nothing and nothng is everything. everything you misunderstand and understand becomes the same.

i think i AM going crazy.

but tonight im ok. i'll dive into the black lines of words laced together by another, kiss my love goodnight, electrionically for now, and dissolve into the dark of unconsciousness and sleep.

its not that early anymore afterall

about 2 more hours to work.. its quite unhealthy how i count down the hours with dread even if i had 5 hours before i have to wear that hideous shirt and my oversized khakis.. i look like a disgruntled kid drowning in clothing and grumpiness at the store. i shall just pray we dont end at 11 again and that hammy drops by before nine as a good excuse for a break instead of loithering around the mall lookig pathetically sad for 30mins.

lol, oh dont i hate my job. dont take it personally dear sportschek.. i hate every job. anything that exercises my obligation rather than my moods tend to irritate me. predictably of purl, persuading complete strangers(who often think everything is just too darned expensive and should be in a discounted walmart instead) to buy badly mechandized(applies strictly to sportschek) products unfortunately happens to be one big, badly dressed, boring and banal obligation in my book.

-pst, notice the use of words that start with B. lol

its only been about a month and im already threatening my considerably healthy blood pressure to rise. trust me my friends. i would so rather write a 500 word essay than watch time sprint toward 5pm.

well whatever, at least getting through those hours always give me a petty excuse to congragulate myself for being patient, kind and generous with my fake smiles and pretentious enthusiasm to make u spend as much money as possible - the ideal kind of sales person which i am fuly aware i certainly am not. i pat myself on the back and tell myself " hey, although u are already considering the options to escape your current job, you are about to beat your grand goodlife gyms record of 2 months!(they paid me better to be a slacker)". so i guess its a good thing.

besides, that way i dont feel as disgusted with myself for not having time to go to the gym so often. i tell myself at least im doing some form of cardio at work with the constant walking, climbing and carrying of boxes. but damm, im feeling so pudgy. prissy piglety pudgy purl. thats me. havent done regular strength training in so long and i swear i probably cant run up a couple flight of stairs before collapsing on the sides in a flubby heap. i dont care if i can now feel my whole pelvic bone and i dont have to pout to poke heartlessly at my cheekbones with familiar self hatred.. im getting soft :S!! oh good god.

and oh, i forgot, i get crappy pay too. so i guess its all good. maybe after working for 5 months i can go shopping for one day.

oh rats, 1 hr and 20 mins left.(given i take 10 mins to get there)

the unedited ramblings of purl of tonight

the melancholy i exaggerate.

[i]
The artist's somehow narcissistic gift of self exaggeration, the typical amplification of pain and sorrow, joy, love.
Especially the endless echoes of my constant desolation that haunt me
Such a cliche, how dare I mutter such trivial words, my trivial mind
Of which I struggle for individuality, which is simultaneously being copied into another's.
Cycles of disintegrating dignity, integrity.
Both of us sitting silently by the glowing jukebox, enveloped by our own silence
We weren't holding hands I recall
Surely we aren't the same.


How I would allow my own
Alienation, from myself, of course, I still don't know.
Documentation of this internal dialogue, transforming it into something no longer just mine
The ironies of language -
They tell us in school, this education, of the new age phenomenon of the
Constant commodification of my body, my voice, my face, my private thoughts
The words tattooed on my skin, along the temples, along my jaw, etched onto my dry finger tips.
Yet ignored, hidden
We forget how to read. We forget what matters.
Winter is approaching; the leaves fall red like pools of blood at my bare, childish feet
My bleeding heart on my torn, dusty sleeve
Hers, his, theirs.

[ii]
Hatred burns for and within the skin you are in
The repulsive reality of tangible flesh, the glaring obligations to listen to this Absurd artifact of nerve endings.
You are just so tired,
Tired.
Lethargy lulls you into the silent tomb of unconsciousness, the smoldering voidless of everything.

The world and its words. Its pictures and sounds and money that scald and hurt.
You still do not understand how, where, when and why,
These blades that render you voiceless got caught in your throat.
You simply woke up one morning, loneliness and frustration bleeding tears into your lidless eyes, your palms cold and sad.

[iii]
Alas!
It is the exuberance of your love, darling,
that saturates the corners of my mind, my world -
a cliche that finds itself cast aside once so often,
and once more redeemed just the same.

Step in, half stranger, half twin -
so present, yet so elusive -
and hold me.
Allow me to tumble into your strange and familiar embrace,
let me fall as prey.
The hunter hidden in your lips and fingertips.
The wilderness of the heart.

[iv]
Repetition, repetition, repetition.
I love you I love you I love you.
The ecstasy and elation that often confuse or awaken.
I keep finding myself falling through the cracks of my heart
into oceans of valium,
orange balloons,
rain,
laughter,
pain,
flames,
you.
I love you I love you I love you.
But I cant find my voice.

- amidst it all
You feel paralysed,
A squashed bug under a shoe.

"When you experience the loss of a beloved, you somehow lose more of that person than you even thought possible. I was prepared to lose my tennis doubles partner, my dinner companion, my sexy girl. But I was not prepared for the exodus of all those other, little Margarets, Margarets I had never even bothered to notice: Margaret checking the mail in just socks, Margaret at the kitchen table eating unwashed grapes, Margaret falling asleep with a book across her face, Margaret leaving her galoshes by the door, Margaret writing long letters that she could never bear to send.

The casualties seemed to go on and on. Just when I thought I was done losing her, I would find yet another way to lose her all over again." - Margarettown, Gabrielle Zevin

havent written a real blog, or anything for that matter, for so long.. as much as i want to, it seems as if i stand in the midst of a cloud of dust. i cannot find the words. nor the energy to string them coherently together. there are so many things i want to talk about. my love, my dispair.. everything. but it just doesnt seem fair.

i seek for inspiration.. searching for and finding beauty in my lover's face, the dry gravel, another's words. yet i cannot separate my own from my churning consciousness. daydreams, reality, hopes find themselves blending into a whirl from which i have yet to pull myself out.

its been so long.

yes, changed my blog... into ANOTER NARCISSISIC ONE! cut me some slack. i love attention. ahhahaaa sure.

lol its always hilarious when my mom wants to buy somethng and my dad grumbles in that funny way of his. his new gardening hobby is funnier!

mm havent been writing lately.. so i decided to sit in my backyard(a.k.a. tan) and write about not writing hoping to get something out. but uh uh. my pen ran out of ink after the 3rd sentence. hahaha.

excerpt from journal (when it was still snowing 05):
"i think im begining to understand and appreciate shared beliefs. its no longer about just keeping things simple, a way out of committment. before, having my beliefs constantly challenged and attacked,i gradually allowed them to suffer some damage and get pushed back, almost forgotten - i became like them.

When hammad(no, we're not breaking up LOL) suddenly entered my consciousness, bring finally a rush of fresh air, i eneded up getting hurt by guns similar to the ones i used. suddenly, i didnt have someone to fight against, someone's words to oppose or ignore. for a while, in the midst of confusion, i understood their pain.

true, i do get tired of hearing "we'll see how things go.." of course moments arise when i realise i want assurance, a promise, something steady, loyal i can clutch in my fingers...
its funny how while thinking of this, my university education manages to insert its little bit in here: the western society has lost many of its traditional mindsets/values, lifestyles. lovers wander amongst one another, dreamless, hopefull, constantly wanting that one person to fill that lonely gap in the crook of their arms late at night. it is almost strange and immoral to blatantly state that we are recycling one another - after being tossed out, exchanged for another recycled individual. funny how we can never love two people the same way either. different stories, complicated, intercepting emotions, those silvers of stolen, private memories float about above us, around us, in us, trascending us.

also, ideals plague us all, the perfect configuration of a person, expectations, rules, scars - all these dreams so different, yet so alike, converging only to have us behave like travellers, everyone of us, reaching for that hand that would hold ours forever.

but with each day, the likelihood of that decreases. even the words of my love smoulders my faint, pulsing hope i almost shamefully hide. i used to get hurt when he speaks of a future evidently dis-cluding me. but i dont want him to lie either. i would have told him to pretend he wouldnt let this go, the way i can easily gratefully and thankfully confess the same. but i dont want him to lie. my vulnerability shimmers as it sits in his oblivious hands.

maybe its our age, the uncertainty and opportunities that line themselves up so endlessly before us. who knows when things may change. i stare enviously at friends who confidently call their loves their "other halves", "laogong", etc. i always thought it was somewhat vile and pretentious, overtly sappy. but thats not my point. is that false consolation? an illusion of absolute assurance? will i be fooled? will i beleive its real and watch it materialize? the only times i briefly let someone call me that never really gave me all that.

then again, there is that "Dont go for what you need, go for what you want" mentality. is that pure irresponsibility, irrationality, or following the heart and private instincts? what responsibility anyway what instincts?

strangers milling around a large square, a rose in hand, damp with tears and blood, doused in perfume, beer and cocaine. what are we to do? what am i to thnk and feel? how do i express this? who will want ot listen?

"baby you're everything i want and need right now" - why right now? why cant people grow together? since when did life and love become periodized, sorted into coherent phases, with labels slapped onto the surface of the glass bottle? does this make it better? simpler?

i cannot claim to be ready for lifelong love.. nor can i say i am not. who is to tell? how would i know? wanting stability and loyalty doesnt mean the person you want it from is willing/ready to give it to you. i am not the type to nudge or push somone into feeling or wanting the same thing i do either. who am i to do so - with only my own personal/private experiences and the other person his own? must i ask for assurance?

i don't want to. neither doi want to settle with knowing i will never find it. and i never want to pretend that i am sure to find it either. as much as i long to take so many things for granted, i dont want ot at the same time. it gives me constant stress, and everyday i almost feel that tangible struggle to maintain everything i am supposed to be, but how else will i learn to value someone?
.
.
.
i always entertained that fairytale that one day i will be loved for everythig i am, hat one day someone will fall to my feet and worship me th way i would fall to his. and now that i found someone getting closer to that, my fear of losing even just one speck huants me.

i always thought being emotional is a sign of weakness, tears only for the confines of your own impenetratable space.. and admitting i am weak doesnt give me closure the way they say being honest to oneself should. rather, it frustrates me that i am nothing like what i want to be. not a perfect person, obviously, but a real, beautifully flawed and raw individual without the hopeless constant hemoraghing core and loneliness that now permanenetly resides in my chest, my lungs, my feet. on good days, with my baby's help i am able to ignore it.
.
.
.
..........

haha, stupid weak and hopeless pearle. who would have thought a person can be this insecure.... even after censorship of some paragraphs. this made me think though.. about then.. and now. ofcourse. now its diffferent. this was written way back.

and yarr... i actualy write like that in my own journal. lols. what a loser

been 4 months and my hairs still soo curly!! even though it prolly grew an inch or more after i permed it! wow. hahaa.. maybe i have curly/wavy hair naturally and the perm jsut gave it a real form... instead of me tryig to comb it neat every day when it was wavy and puffy last time. yay!! i like curly hair! not ron type obviously. but nice curls! heheee *mwah* for bummmm

been so lazy. i need to get fit!! bleargh! hahaa... a hard body is so nice to have and i hate my legs!! argh!! *snores and stuffs cake into mouth* hahaaa... dododooo.. feel like going to the library. that thick book is impossible to read. simply because its farrrrr too thick and it weighs more than a kilogram im suree... holding it will give my biceps definition.. but only 1004 pages. hmm. these people should make such books paperbacks with lighter pages. then i will read.. lols.

ok ima goo! then come home find the ts-elliot poems and off to school i go~

why does my heart feel so sad - moby

...............

Strangely this morning my thoughts drifted to Daryl, prompted by the memory of us at age 14, running across hougang swimming complex wooping, not one bit body conscious, soaking up rays and the chlorinated water. Our brother-sisterly relationship was more or less like mine with Patrick. Back in highschool he called me babe(stil does), people who didn't know us lumped us together, pictures we took together at prom were ridiculous but looked more fitting than those I took with my date. we (still)share the cynical yet hopeful and hopelessly romantic view of life and love, and the enjoyment of midnight club hopping, if not for the wandering amongst unfamiliar bodies with the flashing neon lights and thumping music.. only I hand out my free drinks coupons while he chugs beer with the other guys. we proclaimed each other similarly charismatic and special while graduating from holy innocents, then hardly ever saw each other again, except for that one day he was the first to slip that silvery necklace around my neck, give me a hug and tell me to take good care minutes before I stepped onto the plane which, with the tears pouring from my eyes, would change my life forever.

I don't know why I thought of him. he didnt play a big role in my life, not even the slightest crush happened. We were strictly platonic.. and for the past 3 years, the only times we met were completely accidental. I don’t even miss him that much, I am not even sure what friend status to give him.. yet that one memory persists.. 2 boys(ron was there too) and 1 girl, hovering near the peak of full blown adolescence, so simple, so confused, our awkward voices rising clear and strong toward the blazing Singaporean sun.

Then there was bengimin lam ke wei. My first friend and neighbor in charlton. The strange skinny darkskinned boy who taught me how to swing from one monkey bar to another with no effort.. and taught me how to swear. and who shared scraped knees and obnoxious bruises from recklessly jumping on miniature skateboards, whacking each other with wooden sticks when we play fight and while performing ridiculous stunts on his painful looking porch, where I hung out for most of 1996. and the funniest thing was, we had to tell people we were cousins to ward off fishy suspicions.

Then we drifted apart toward the end of primary school, as I leaned toward my books and slightly more passive and subdued friends like Patrick, cedric, kenny and thh. We still met up for soccer once in a while, still yelled at each other from our own houses, held up that slowly fading friendship until secondary 3, where I finally joined the pompous studious snobs "up there" while he drifted to the normal-technical stream.. had to be sent to behavioral school.. got fixed up and became some wushu bigshot and despite STILL being in the same secondary school, our lives twisted and grew in different directions, and then our friendship finally broke down when he moved away. No more looking out the window half expecting him to wave. I finally got him on my buddys list on msn a year ago.. but that was also the last time we spoke in so many years.. albeit electronically. I wonder how he is doing.

And his best friend, Justin. The one who would wear socks abd sprinkle talcum powder on smooth flooring to slide around to the song Mr. Bombastic, made popular by that levis commercial on tv. the three of us we so close during primary school. And I would partake in every boyish activity they had. Climbing trees, water guns. The most amusing thing about Justin is that.. two years after we lost touch, he came to be the character in my idiotic smoker boyfriend story I would tell to others for a laugh. Despite all the rehabilitation, conversion to Christianity and juvenile arrests, he didn't change. There was one redeeming thing though, he would call at 3am in the morning while he was out fishing, and sing to me while I nodded off. How cute. Im curious if ben still has those infamous sleepovers at justin's mansion. I would suspect so. They were wonderful friends. I was the reject, the goody two-shoes who did her homework and picked up a different lifestyle, somewhat more complex than the one I had at 12.. all I can do now is smile.. for them.

Karen. How can I ever forget Karen.. the eccentric little girl who saw herself as more mature than everyone else around us.. but she was my best best buddy in Charlton. I do not really know what to speak of her, except for my constant incredulity of her reluctance to come run around in the park with us or simply go out.. and insistence of staying in her dark pinkish home all day. But I remember admiring her closeness to her two sisters, tracing pictures cut out from magazines along their shared dresser sitting in an apartment in bedok. She was one to talk behind a person’s back. Prone to gossip and silent anger and jealousy. I heard from someone else she vowed to cut off ties with everyone in Charlton once the PSLE results were in.. which she successfully did. I was not too tramuatised. A lot of politics arose at that time amongst us all at that time.. and I still had thh and other buddies.I wonder how she is doing also.

My oldest friend ever possible. The guy I known since I was 4. Lam hongye. our families were friends, despite different schools and living in different areas.. we remained close all the way till secondary 2. for some reason my entire life took a sharp turn when at the age of 15(secondary 3). there is no way I can forget the Saturdays he spent over at my house, lugging that huge bag of plastic swords and toys behind him. we basically grew up together.. even early pictures with my family had him in it... I temporarily became his parent's daughter(he was the only child).. they took us everywhere, lavished us with unreasonably huge sums of money at amusement parks or arcades. Even as we grew older when we went out while we were still drifting apart, his parents pressed money into his hands, telling him to dress smart and take me out to a nice dinner.

For some reason we just do not talk anymore. Although I am absolutely sure I am not forgotten, having received a little puny msg informing me he now has a gf and is now in the army. But everything else, I don’t know. Funny eh, relationships between people. One minute we were pelting water bombs at each other, mouths wide with laughter, combining our pocket money to buy a bubble gun. The next, over thousands of miles and 3 years after quietly slipping that little bracelet with our two names engraved on both sides into my hands as a goodbye at the airport, we only probably pop up in each other’s minds once in a while when we get nostalgic. Then again, I am probably just more sentimental than he is.

These are not the only friends I had that somehow impacted my life and then disappeared of course. These are the ones who just happen to wander into my mind as I was typing this.
At the same time, im looking at my own life right now, suppressing the anger, sorrow, joy and frustration rising up all at once. Its not nostaligia.. I just miss the friends that have NOT disappeared. I miss how easy it used to be to spend my days, without planning. Days I truly appreciated the rare times I sat alone in my balcony-turned-into-room, reading at my good old huge ass table. I should ask my parents if it is still there in the house.

Sometimes I ask myself why should I feel this lonely. why i have to punch myself to stop feeling so shitty. I have everything I need for now almost. Like what Ronald said : a happy family, pretty well off, big boobs i dont want(lol), an amazing bf who occasionally feels intangible, relatively good social skills, not many friends but receiving life changing education and a car. My life IS supposed to be almost complete.. I should stop picking battles with myself. Bored is good, they say. Bored is safe.

Hadn't I always wanted safe? when then am i taking deep breaths to stop myself from picking this keyboard up and smashing it against the monitor and table?