Friday nights out with megan is always good. I'm glad we met again, like after who knows how long. Really bonded again like hot fudge stickiness. heh. Believe me when I say I'm gonna eat a steak and salmon. LOL. And thank you for converting me over to the hot side of starbucks. =) simply heaven, that nice coffee machiato with LOADS of vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and chocolate toppings. haha. Oh and if I spoilt your night out with someone else, I'm really sorry. lol, though I kinda knew who was coming when you smsed to tell me. haha! Kinda feels awkward at times, but I'm glad he's understanding. I think. Though I kinda feel he's being tolerant and suppressing fits of jealousy. Scary. He is a nice guy. right?

Being honest, everytime I see ECs (yess, more than one.) walk by, there's this urge to get a girl friend. This awful sense of loneliness sets in and I feel that I'm the only one left in the world who's single and alone. Kinda like the dementors. Then the ECs walk out of sight and the warmth of my friends return. Zzst.

"why not get MANY girlfriends?"
- Eh, no. One is difficult enough.

" why not be cassanova joshua?"
-Sorry ZAI, but I'm not intelligent, good-looking and rich, therefore not possible, according to yiling's 3 qualities of guys.

"just have many flings"
- It gets meaningless after awhile.

At the end of the day, its left to this:
"screw the attractions and focus on Promos."

fricking cold: the illness.
When your nose drips like a broken faucet, then come emphatise with me.

I'm staying home today. Its Thursday after all. one of the suckiest (apart from tuesday) days of the week. The general burnout, tired body, bleeding mind, etcetera, etcetera. I don't learn much in school. The lectures are repetitive and boring. All I do is fill in the blanks. Tutorials are even worse. Sit for 50 minutes solving two questions out of God-knows-how-many we have. And so the days go on. and on and on and on. Guess I'll turn it off for today. In the working world, its called: TAKING LEAVE. yes.

"You. so what the hell are you pms-ing for huh? Tell me, who died and made you the judge?"

screw off.

Control the mind
to control the body
(and the sarcasm)

Do not rage at your leaders
They are human afterall
(so weak you might actually kill them accidentally)

If you cannot respect them for them,
respect them for their rank.
(Glorified scum of the earth)

This Anger, this Hate, black and deep it runs, it runs. Pours out of my heart, as a dark scarlet rage. A rage that screams for vengence. Nothing but your blood will satisfy me. But what use is vengence and retribution if the hand that executes it is stained also? What joy is there in being incriminated at the height of one's triumph? Slowly, deviously I shall plot. Plot your disgrace and orchestrate your fall. Secretly the knife shall slide between your shoulderblades. Slide to, through your palpitating heart. Don't look so surprised, in the depths of your mind you must know you had it coming. So enjoy, as I sink your consequence and let you down like a punctured spare tire (for you have one too many). With my gauntleted hand I shall wipe that condescension from your smirking face, and bloody your visage like the bastard you are. Till you are condemned as the very scum of the earth, I shall not rest. In this epic endeavor, justice, pure and unadulterated shall be forced down your gagging throat without moderation. What say you, as the tables turn? Where the victim victimises his abuser and the prey slays its predator. For mercy you shall plead but never have, an edifice I shall build to canonize your inevitable death.

"i'm kidding to a certain extent."

Yeah right.

Pick up pen and poise on paper. Pause and think, for dramatic effect, of the selective choice of words to portray the intense emotion that threatens to overwhelm. The point trembles, on the verge of crafting an exquisite expression from effusive symbolism. Finally the nib descents and kisses the parchment, tentatively, lovingly, pouring itself in reckless abandon of the paper's virgin innocence. Then a blur of scratching follows, evolving into flowing words, as pen dances with paper. Dances, till creeping doubt halts the torrential idea-flow with a premature fullstop. Pause, darken and bleed. If mere poetry could capture the length, breadth and depth of my feelings for you, my Love, I do not love you truly, purely, madly, deeply. Instead, let this not be a description but a promise:

I love you. Truly. Madly. Deeply.
xxxxxx.

Broken panel of misfits
hurt in angst
lost in a barren world
of swirling monochrome

Life flashes slowly by
speeding like a snail
across the pavement
towards the inevitable crunch
on the cement.

Somehow we met
our lives intercrossed
and evading the inevitable
we got damn comfortable

Tantative, hi
a quick wave with a smile
as we pass each other by
starts the gravitation.

Like puzzle pieces
torn and dirty
outcast from society
we match and fit;
our little miracle.

Thus the beat of life rhythms anew
with such an unspeakable thrill
and we know,
it won't be a breeze
but a gale
in full bloom;
such a beautiful storm.

I love you brwncws and oac(razy).