why do people blog?

i am, in fact a very boring person when im alone. it is people who interest me, and people who give me a desire to become interesting to them in return. so when im all alone, my mind goes on an automatic search for holes to fill up, and things which i have never thought about. and this space, merely provides the means to write about things that i am, things that i am not, things that i want to be, and things that i don't like to be. in other words, it allows me to create a lie, a facade, half-truth, and a hyperbolic version of my life sometimes.

doesnt sound like the person that you know me to be? well, it is not, paradoxically. (:

i dont like peanuts.

but i have been out of sorts today. i ate half a dozen of peanut glutinous rice balls; i threw away half the things in my cupboard; i choked on my saliva thrice and lost two consecutive freecell game in a row; i thought about how much i hate school, work and every aspect of my life; i sat in front of the television for an hour watching some serial which i dont follow; i read a happy blog and felt the opposite; i spent three hours wiping every single file in my shelf; im feeling sleepy but im doing everything i can to keep myself awake because i dont want the day to end so soon. i dont want the day to end so soon, because it is just another unproductive day.

the sky outside my window is dark, and starless. the moon floats above, cold and quiet.

the door is locked, and i dont have the keys. :/

you know, i was hoping that every weekend could be like the one that has just passed - ktv, good company, ben&jerrys, delightful dinners, old jokes, reminiscence, nice ambience, smooth chilled beer, some of my favourite people and places, a good rest, a little bit of leisure reading, peace, love and joy.

but if every weekend was like this,
then it wouldnt be memorable anymore, would it. (:

these are the people i would wake up at 8-ish on a saturday morning for.



because i know that they will always make my day. (:

whenever im alone and frightened/down/stressed, i would ask myself, whats the worst thing that can happen to me now?

then a voice would reply, dying is probably the worst thing that can happen.

then i would know that it is not so bad after all.

these days, even eight to ten hours of sleep a day doesnt help, because im too tired to think or care most of the time.

im too young to have a midlife crisis, and too old for an identity crisis.

so all i need is to draw a circle around myself, and stay inside for long enough until i start to miss the company around me, the work that i do, and the things that i used to like.



then i will come bouncing back, light as a ping pong ball.

i fight a battle that you cannot see.

i dont know where you went when you left me
but says here in the water
you must be gone by now
i can tell somehow

one hand on the trigger of a telephone
wondering when the call comes
where you say its alright
you got your heart right

maybe ill sleep inside my coat and
wait on your porch til you come back home
oh right, i cant find a flight

we share the sadness
split screen sadness

-- split screen sadness | john mayer

this song reminds me of all the nights that i used to spend in the clubroom - the dim flickering ceiling lights, the cold stale air, the loud humming of the air-conditioner, the big brown table that had been heavily vandalised with graffiti, along with half-eaten lunch boxes and food wrappers strewn all over, the tired souls slumbering on the dusty sofas, the cupboards that were overflowing with junk, the sea of newater which never run dry, the white board marked with (often senseless) scribblings and drawings, the computer room that functioned as a gossiping hub in disguise, the laughter of the people whom i thought i would walk with for the next four years, and the warmth of the room where i spent most of my freshman year in.

the room has moved since two months ago.

i would rather camouflage with the walls these days.

because im sentimental, and our fast-moving world has no place for people like me.

let me hibernate for a year or two, and maybe i will wake up feeling like a fresh piece of paper.

how would you feel if you stepped on a nail twice on the same spot.

all defeat is painful, especially when you have put in your best. to be honest, i felt like tearing this year more than the last. not because i have contributed more, but because it was like watching a replay of a tragedy, which i know was beyond my ability to stop. thing went wrong along the way, but we dont know where we tripped, or how we can improve to be better (other than to become worse and uncreative). we want to fly, but God has refused us wings, twice.

i had a dream, but i missed my chance, and i wont get it back again. now some other people missed their chance too. eff the judges. its déjà vu and we grudgingly welcome you to our alumnus.

i typed this at 3am to commemorate my 300th post, which is an unhappy one. i do not feel hopeless, just helpless, and inextricably helpless.