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Saturday, July 29
Dear Bacteria, pick on someone your own size!
.. These past few days have been a whirlwind of lateness, laziness & late-night suppers. And the only thing I remember was that 5 seconds when everything fell into place.
But heaven used to be on Wednesdays.
And if that little snapshot of my life isn't quite satisfactory (ie. it doesn't speak a 1000 words as all pictures should) - well I'm back from a rather rockin' time at The School of Angels, Demons & Monkeys; am taking up future residence at NTU Hall 14; finally collected my A level cert; am going on a road trip to Malaysia tomorrow; have just been made S$1600 richer*; am still moping over you when I have the time**.
* Bidding for best friend going at one meal at Lawrie's.
** Not.
Caged hearts drown oceans dry.
Because now talking hurts even more than the silence.
The angels of grace, doom & warning.
I just realised that in a matter of weeks, my life is about to change considerably. And to be honest, I cannot say I anticipate any of it - frankly, I am scared to death, with the worst possibilities playing over and over in my head. (i.e, me having to up my creativity level by binging on Space Cake :O.)
What used to be the thrilling prospect of studying something I really enjoy is now increasingly marred by the fatal "But-what-if-I'm-not-good-enough?" syndrome, not to mention the hopefully unwarranted fear of a dangerously low hot-guy count.
Ha ha kidding. (No, rly.)
But I guess what I'm really afraid of is letting the present slip away before I can take it all in. Will class outings slowly fade to annual reunions? Will best friends find new best friends? Will family on weekends be enough? Will my sister relegate all my stuffed toys onto her bed when I'm gone?
For now, all I can do is pack my bags, books and fake cheery smile for Freshman Orientation Camp this week - and hope that the answers are far less elusive than Paul Twohill's left eye.
Frantic butterflies in my head.
Sometimes it's the little things that keep me sane. And I know this because I cut my finger again.
Can you help me I'm bent.
I can only conclude that my heart, in breaking, must've inadvertedly severed my nerves along with it - because I don't feel a thing.
O, blessid union.
Cards and phone callsand photograph pictures of youConstant reminderof all the things you get used toIs there a chance in Hell or HeavenThat there's still something here to build onOr do you just pick up the pieces after they fallBut after allThere's a light in your eyes.
The Spectaculars.
Me, I'm thankful for new no-smoking laws and less acrid methods of mosquito fumigation. I'm currently addicted to Ribena and Mystery Case Files: Prime Suspects; My hair is freakin' red and I am giving up on you because I am too tired of trying. Goodbye.
Mad-ass maladies.
Some people question the intentions of girls who watch soccer, particular this World Cup season - claiming most hardly know enough about the game to appreciate it. But srsly, Mr. Hero up there is enough reason for me. (;
Hahahaha ha ha.
That aside, I do not watch soccer just to provide myself with solid conversation material should ever I need to impress the particular male that currently catches my interest. (Hello, he doesn't even watch soccer. ROFL.) No - however, I do admit to the tendency of being caught up in the excitement; ie. bubble tea, Dan Brown, ordering Macs at midnight.
But Cristiano is more than just a fad.
Love 4eva worzx.