can we not talk about feelings.

The ability, to snap your fingers, and have your feelings stripped away, might be a superhero power on it's own.

You would have no qualms addressing a crowd of strangers. Hindrance that settled around you in a cloud of fear and anxiety, for your chances of happiness being squandered, it dissipates. You do the things they have long held you back from. You say the things you think fitting.

This facade you put on, it could quell panic, it could soothe the distressed, it could eliminate grief, no emotional interference on your own part, a perfectly mastered mask, facial muscles in place to comfort, to appease.

This elimination of feelings, it might work.

Sometimes, I feel, so much, almost as if every cell, every nerve, thrives on emotions. Excitement channeled fervently through my bloodstream, an increase in heartbeat fueled by laughter, relishing in affection.

Then there's the surge of white-hot anger burning through my veins, the acidic taste of bitterness on my tongue, the swell at the back of my throat only distress can bring about.

I wonder if one day, these feelings, at the intensity they billow out, would send my body into a muddle, and it decides it no longer has the mechanism, no longer wants to process, all my complications no longer has any alternatives, but to shut them all out.

I wonder if I'll like it that way.

-my 4am thoughts.

your words.

Words,

you fancy them up like a newborn baby girl in a bonnet adorned with lace and ribbons, she chuckles, you look at her, your heart swells and spills over, and you want to hold her in your arms and wish the best for her.

Words,

you inject this thrill into them, like a toddler the very first time he experiences rain, the magical appearance of droplets of water, the very first time he learns how to crawl, and it irrevocably changes him and it's all he wants to do

Words,

you tire them out, a high schooler who knows she doesn't quite fit in, and when she tries, a tight silence places a noose around her neck, every try is a struggle, every struggle brings about clenches stronger than the last, so she stops.

Words,

you fritter them away, a college student who doesn't quite know what he wants, he goes through life, he does what's required, he says the right things, but he doesn't feel.

I'll tell you this.

Words, are words, so much they can do.

Either the world. Or close to nothing.

my day.

I don't blog about 'my day'. I don't even recall the events in a day during Skype calls. I just don't.

Its 4pm. My feet is propped up on a pillow. Vampire Weekend is on replay. Air-con and the rain caters for the perfect nap.

I'm blogging about my day.

10.20 am: Jolts awake from a succession of nightmares. 5 to be precise.

10.26am: Tweets about nightmare

11.40am: Realizes I don't have a blazer. My formal blouse needs to be ironed. Zipper on my skirt doesn't work. And class is in 20 minutes.

12.01pm: Leaves the house.

12:02pm: Regrets.

12:03pm: Returns and switches from heels to flip flops. Stuffs heels into paper bag.

12:07pm: Walks across campus. Heat is unbearable. Sweats profusely. About 60 students clamoring outside a lecture hall. They take up the entire walkway. Explodes on the inside. Perspires on the outside.

12:08pm: Decides to avoid students. Uses the stairs.

12.10pm: Reaches 4th floor. Block D. Realizes class has always been in Block E.

12.11pm: Gives up. Squeezes past students. Waits for lift.

12:14pm: Waits for lift. Many other students waiting for lift. Sweat trickling down my forehead.

12:15pm: Grabs tissues from the restroom.

12:16pm: Waits for lift.

12:20pm: Reaches class. Realizes the dress code is smart casual. Not white blouse tucked in pencil skirt and killer heels formal.

1:32pm: Heads off for interview with accreditation board.

1:40pm: Sees everyone in casual clothes.

2:07pm: Dean starts ........................................ talking

2:17pm: Tweets about my unwashed hair.

2:20pm: Thunder starts rumbling in the distance.

2:22pm: Finds out I'm not needed for the interview.

2:23pm: Rushes off.

2:24pm: In the lift. Prays for the rain to hold off till I get home.

2:25pm: Attempts to run in heels. On an uneven pavement. Trips in the most horribly embarrassing manner.

2:26pm: Changes from heels to flip flops. Heels has these tiny straps with buckles.

2:30pm: So far 782541 people have witnessed me in my appalling state. Still attempting to remove heels while standing upright.

2:31pm: Ignores throbbing ankle and bleeding knee. And that my skirt has shifted into this weird position. And that half of my hair has escaped from the bun and covers half my face.

2:32pm: Hobbles home.

2:33pm: It rains. So heavily.

2:35pm: I get home

This is why 'my day' does not make it as blogging material.

My anger lasted till 4pm. I'm okay now. I had fried chicken. Hahahahaha. And my boyfriend Skyped me. Which is better than fried chicken. I just had to mention fried chicken first.

Sometimes, my dad looks at me scuttling around panicking and knocking over stationary items shakes his head and tells me I remind him of a cartoon character.

I laughed so hard at this.

Sorry. I'm not very interesting. I think I used to be slightly more than I am now.

Bye!

with age comes.

An upset,

5 year old you would scoop chocolate ice-cream out of the tub by the fistful and out of spite, leave smears on the couch.

11 year old you would throw tantrums, and you would make certain that with the severity of their outrageousness, for ripples of tremors to run through the house in a way even slammed doors, raised voices and a thunderstorm combined wouldn't achieve.

14 year old you would reciprocate by throwing up a middle finger and cast baleful glares while uttering profanities under your breath. 

16 year old you would sit, tight-lipped and unrelenting, radiating disapproval while conjuring up walls, solid and unforgiving for all it's transparency, the perfect barricade against justifications.

20 year old you cries effortlessly. 

I like being 20.

I actually feel really upset now because it's a long weekend ahead and I should be back home but here I am sitting in the hostel alone.

Hey my boyfriend blogs

louieongg.blogspot.com

I feel threatened by this 5'5 female.

Oh I miss you. 

read

Been trying to get back into reading. Not flippant attempts at finishing a book on a long car ride or skimming through a few pages half-halfheartedly, but actual, sitting down, without my phone in vicinity and devour an entire book. 

Yeah.

Anyway, quotes from a few books. 

1. Jenny Han, To All The Boys I'd Loved Before

"When someone's been gone a long time, at first you save up all the things you want to tell them. You try to keep track of everything in your head. But it's like trying to hold on to a fistful of sand: all the little bits slip out of your hands, and then you're just clutching air and grit. That's why you can't save it all up like that. 

Because by the time you finally see each other, you're catching up only on the big things, because it's too much bother to tell about the little things. But the little things are what make up life.” 

“Plenty of people are good-looking. That doesn't make them interesting or intriguing or cool.” 

2. Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl 

“Tampon commercial, detergent commercial, maxi pad commercial, windex commercial - you'd think all women do is clean and bleed.” 

“I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.”  

“Because isn’t that the point of every relationship: to be known by someone else, to be understood? He gets me. She gets me. Isn’t that the simple magic phrase?” 

“Because you can’t be as in love as we were and not have it invade your bone marrow. Our kind of love can go into remission, but it’s always waiting to return. Like the world’s sweetest cancer.”  

“Love makes you want to be a better man. But maybe love, real love, also gives you permission to just be the man you are.”  

“There’s a difference between really loving someone and loving the idea of her.” 

3. Jodi Picoult,

Nineteen Minutes 

“You don't need water to feel like you're drowning, do you?”  

“In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn; color your hair; watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minutes, you can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you can fold laundry for a family of five.In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world; or you can just jump off it.”  

“I don't know what you think of me. And you certainly would never picture us together. But probably peanut butter was just peanut butter for a long time, before someone ever thought of pairing it with jelly. And there was salt, but it started to taste better when there was pepper. And what's the point of butter without bread? Anyway by myself I'm nothing special. But with you I could be.”  

“Do you know how there are moments when the world moves so slowly you can feel your bones shifting, your mind tumbling? When you think that no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life, you will remember every last detail of that one minute forever?” 

The Pact

“I, um, I have this problem. I broke up with my boyfriend, you see. And I'm pretty upset about it, so I wanted to talk to my best friend. The thing is, they're both you.” 

Second Glance

“Did you ever walk through a room that's packed with people, and feel so lonely you can hardly take the next step?”  

“Words, for all they were flimsy and invisible, had great strength. They could be fortified as a castle wall and sharp as a foil. They could bite, slap, shock, wound. But unlike deeds, words couldn't really help you. No promise ever rescued a person; it was the carrying-through of it that brought about salvation.” 

4. Dorothy Koomson,

Marshmallows For Breakfast

“She believed that owning a lots of things made you a better person. She didn't know - possibly didn't want to know - that happiness comes from the inside.” 

“But feelings aren't like thoughts, they can't be changed at will.” 

My Best Friend's Girl

“Crying was an acceptable outlet, even if it made you feel raw and empty inside, it was still better than that build up of resentment that grew from not letting your emotions out.” 

I really don't have much to do. Now, a week later I'll probably say different. First week back for classes, I wish I were home instead. Waiting for a Skype call. Hahahahahahaha. Goodnight!

I'm a list sort of person.

Haven't made one in a while.

Minor accomplishments, today I :

1. Made my bed

2. Stopped at one cup of coffee

3. Remembered my umbrella

4. Wasn't late for class

5. Sat through my first two classes of my Second Year in Law School

6. Spent within budget

7. Did the Ice Bucket Challenge

8. Did laundry

9. Felt a little less sad a lot more happy

10. (in all honesty waking up when the alarm went off is one on it's own)

I'll do better tomorrow

The things I want to say

The things I want to say

They're specks of dust glinting in the sunlight, they don't bother you much until you run your finger across a piece of furniture, notice the dust bunnies peeking out beneath the bed and that the curtains aren't the light pastel color you once picked out, then they start to irritate you and you just want to get rid of them. 

They don't come in fancy phrases, they're raw and unfiltered, harsh and unforgiving, rough and unrelenting

Maybe for this very reason, for the distance they take, to travel out of your mouth, they collide into hazards and red flags, neon warning signs flashing furiously for retreat. 

So I retract them just in time and they remain the things I want to say. 

But I never do because the things I want to say are the things I feel the most.

I still want to feel. 

can i be more

it's the first of August already I'm not ready this is too much I wake up past noon and I'm ready for naps by 3pm I forget to use punctuation I don't sip tea from fancy chinaware and contemplate life I'm only at S4E1 of Game Of Thrones and the spoilers are all over the net my books are not arranged in accordance to authors/genres it annoys me but I'd been out everyday and when I'm home I'm tired I love the TV I hate the Wifi at home I'd been planning to call and complain I eat out more than I should I try to lay off coffee but it's not working I get headaches without them I don't work out anymore I lost my running shoes when we moved I wish we had Ikea here I keep coming up with excuses I'm sleepy did I tell you that my head hurts and I really want tomyam now and more sleep 5 more months till 2015 hmm okay

I am not ready for life itself.

Going out in a bit.

kkkkkkkkkkkkkk. bye.

20

I know, such a sad song to play on your 20th Birthday.

oh hey I'm 20.

what if trust

what if trust were a game of Jenga between 2 players

54 blocks, stacked to form a solid tower,

comprised of do(s) and don't(s) in a relationship,

3 blocks laid flat in one direction made up of promises,

first block labelled with words casually doled out over dinner

second block imprinted with tears and vows to never again

third with hints to commit, to change, to be better

3 blocks make up the base

every fresh placement of 3 blocks imposes pressure on the existing ones

you go on till you hit 18 levels

then you take turns, both of you

it's unfortunate and slightly twisted

but you still do it, making it almost inevitable

you scrutinize this tower, you lean over and gingerly slide out a single block

you pick it and discard it, this first block done without much thought

because even without it, you're assured that the tower still stands

first block removed, first promise broken

next person shadows your actions

repeat

until the tower teeters, threatens to tip over

a relationship at it's breaking point

both of you hesitate, every move is calculated,

but beneath the measures taken to keep the tower from collapsing,

to grasp onto the frayed ends of a relationship and anchor them onto the ground

you both know how this will end

either of you are bound to discard of that one block that leads to the crash

it only matters on whose part

Trust.

But it's fine because trust isn't a game.


*drafted this 2 months ago
*emphasize is on the words in red/bold/underlined thank you
*I'd only played Jenga once

blogging is a less liberal, more refined version of Twitter, sans the 140 characters limit, there's the demand to take heed that every sentence strung along is grammatically precise, pictures that do more than justify captions, it's more than a dump site of impulsive words and uncalculated thoughts.

it's 14 days into the second half of the year, I'm done with First Year of Law School,  a week into my semester break and the paragraph above is to make up for the lack of substantial blogging material 

and then this is an excuse I fabricated because there are things I would rather do besides blogging

like have ice-cream and cake for breakfast

stay in bed to read

 color coordinating my clothes

going out

maybe I shouldn't blog when it's coerced out of boredom 

hi. my finals ended today.

yay.

and I'm going home on Monday!

oh and prom tomorrow.

:D

^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ happy

this isn't a hate post.

No I don't hate you.

Perhaps a tinge of irritation when you first turned up. I did find you too brazen for my liking.
You bear the impression of that popular kid whose face crinkled into an angry mess when at the age of 7, I didn't realize that having preferences was socially unacceptable, that favoring someone else's drawing was unheard of. You remind me of the 2 weeks period I had to spend lunch break alone.

But no I don't blame you for my inferiority complex. It would be absurd to do so.

How could I. My emotions are merely a reflex. Nothing more.They're the sentimental equivalent to the pain an amputee feels in a lost limb.

When your smirk becomes more pronounced, and so did my dislike for it, I swallow my urge to call quits to this relationship.

If everyone notices it, they don't point it out. The cliche about accepting a person wholly? I always admired them for mastering it because I never could with you.

See this is a lie I fabricated to put myself at ease.

No one finds fault in you like I do. I have a sneaky suspicion that they're taken by your brashness, smitten by your big words, even when you swoop down and impose your problems on us. The only resentment developing comes from me that no one else sees past that imposing stance. I resent them for embracing you in your entirety.

Now I just avoid you at all costs. I stopped turning up at events when your name shows up on the invitation list. I give tight lipped smiles when someone brings you up. Just enough to indicate the indifference I'm starting to feel. I learn how easy it is to make excuses for myself.

But you're this larger than life figure that I can't seem to shake off by shying away.

How do you delete a person from your life when your relationships intertwine, with expectations and obligations woven in.

You don't?

Maybe this is a hate post after all.

I really do hate law.

I hate law this much.

Enough to refer to law as a person.

Mhm.

when.

I blog at my lowest points.

This blog serves as a timeline dominated by days when I know nothing but hurt, when I can't shake off the achy feeling etched there, right there where I'm most vulnerable, when the lump in my throat swells to astronomical sizes, when it bubbles and spills over, when I emerge drained because crying isn't a relief anymore, it comes in unconstrained waves and it really depletes you and-

I shouldn't be blogging.

why hurt right.

here's a post.

Here's a post. 

It contains highs, the first-class, noteworthy sort, it almost feels synthetic. From a meaningful side-glance that conveys inside jokes. From affection, not the over-exaggerated sort, or one that is so highly convenient it leaves you complacent. From infectious giggles. Hugs that do more than envelope you in a blanket of security.

It also compromises of unspoken rules, resentment laughed off begrudgingly, little spurts of uncertainty that accumulates into a torrent of doubts you find yourself constantly drenched in. It holds a soft spot for poignant thoughts. It accommodates apprehension, the pain of fruitless anticipation, so sharp, it comes close to shattering the silence you're enveloped in.

Just like my days used to be (occasionally is)

you have a(n almost) perfect relationship balancing the extremes

except for your sneaky little affair with sadness you try your best to smuggle away but we all know how ruthless affairs are on relationships.

And from this post, I conclude that it shall remain the last one.

Because ugh.

.

given two options,

 would you rather, spend your life with someone who despite your pretty shitty qualities would give up anything for you but your feelings for them borderline between affection, convenience and nothing more

or

someone who makes you feel like, well like extracts from chick lit books on racing hearts, flushed cheeks and sweaty palms all the time but they care significantly less about you

Just wondering.

btw someone ; 'you have the mindset of a female whose only intention of getting married is to reproduce'

Lol.

I either feel too much or I don't feel at all most of the time its the latter

Oh the things you'd gone through feelings no one should ever have it's 3.41am how long has it been since I'd brought up the exact time I'm signing off goodnight to you you're not here but it's okay hey I'm not sad I'd never needed anyone I'd always been fine all on my own I'll pull through 2 more hours till I leave for home maybe just maybe 

Annoying things I do,

Download about 50 applications I find remotely 'interesting' or 'applicable to my situation now' like myHomework / Argus / Spktosnooze / ToshFinance and just leave them to eat up space in my phone .

On the bright side. I finally noticed the Blogger icon (after a few months) :D 

So hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. 

Despite looking 6, I have piles of assignments to do so bye.