Overheard

Overheard: "I think she's fake, why did we hire her?"

Afterwards: "Aiya, to each their own"

Hello? You think people don't find you fake? Look into the mirror before you pass a comment. Do you even smile at her when passing by? If not, why should she smile at you? If she does, you would definitely think that she has a screw loose, isn't it? If not, you think her fake.

If you smile at people of your own accord, I would have nothing to say. But since you don't, what gives you the right to comment?

Walk Down Memory Lane

So much for being over him - Just a visit to Jimmy Monkey and walk down Khandahar Street brought back the memories... And yes, he appeared, yet again, in my dream!

Somehow I seem to be obsessed over him, and you know what? Maybe I am!

Sabotage

Sabotaged - that's the only way that I could describe my showcase performance.

Why must they have the second chance? Why can't they take the better of the two performances?

My first performance was perfect. PERFECT I tell you. We were on the beat, my feet moved exactly where they were supposed to move.

And then they had to do the second chance - whereby our locations were switched around.

I had a partner who was not confident of himself an insisted on standing at the back he first time round. And so, all the mistakes etc were extra obvious.

What can I say except for sabotage? Frankly speaking, if he gets selected, double sabotage. All I can say is, fuck my life.

Out of my space!

You disgusting woman!

Get out of my space!!

You're supposed to stand at a corner when you come for a class in which you're not a regular! Bloody idiot... Standing in my spot!

Do you think that standing in my spot for 4 entire weeks make that spot yours? I'd be back to claim it - an if you don't move, don't blame me for showing you the black face.

Not just for Cardio Dance, and also for Body Pump? You piece of shit.

Eye Candies in Sydney

Just in case you were wondering how the eye candy I was ogling at in Sydney looked like, here you go:

Tall Dark and Handsome (Since the first time I saw him in November)

And a Clark Kent look-alike...


















I'm glad that I get to travel and people watch!!

Baby Voice

I definitely can't stand people who talk in a baby voice.

Talking in that voice to a baby is ok, but not in the general public!!! Seeming vulnerable is not the way to go!

Good god, grow up!

Just an irritating bug that I face at the moment...

Cold Feet

So much for the one to grab all the human touch from!

Seems that he has cold feet. If you aren't sure about what you want, don't do it! Don't give excuses like 'I need to sort out the shit that is my personal life'.

Like the song says,'It's either you will, or you won't fall in love with me'.

Maybe I should stop jinxing myself as well, to keep all potentials under wraps till it becomes a fact!

Human Contact

Are you a human contact person?

I was, until I was re-programmed to keep my hands to myself.

Now, I have experienced the human touch again, and I want to keep touching, smoothing, and just feel him.

After the contact on Saturday, and no contact on Monday, I was deprived. We managed to touch today, and I'm happy about it, even though the period is so short!

I want to hug, I want to touch... I need human contact!

Sick of it all

I've been sick for the past 12 days. During this period that I'm on medical leave, I have definitely realised the fact that I cannot live in this house anymore.

Just simply by the fact that my mother was not working for all the days that I was sick - ALL THE DAYS, no space to do my things, TV turned on in volume, people walking all over. When I cough, being nagged at to take medication.

No privacy, all surrounded by noises, and I just simply have it up to here *points to top of head*.

New year resolution 2013: I will move out of the house.

As of now, I'm packing all my clothes and all. Well, I should throw throw throw, such that I can declutter!!!

Ta-Boleh Tahan

I cannot stand people who are so fake. Maybe they are real, but I see them as fake. Just can't stand their voices and the way they speak!

Realization

I realize that I am over Mr. Bus 16!!

Took a long while, and some eye candy(ies), and the fact that he changed his Facebook profile picture into a more sleazy looking (IMHO) photo.

Now that my heart is free, who can be the one that makes it sing in joy and love and everything else?

Realization came when I flew back from Sydney from my latest (and first) overseas work trip. I did not pine for him, nor did I think about the rest of the things that I did on the return trip from Gold Coast in October.

I guess it helped that there was a gorgeous eye candy from the program - dark hair, blue eyes, tall and broad shoulders.

Delicious looking!

When?

When would I fall in love again?

I do enjoy going on dates, getting to know a new person...

"You are the only one that I see, the boy that I need, the one that I dream about endlessly."

When is it that I will get to feel that again?!?

For one, I think I need a girlfriend to hit the bars with. :)

Unrequited Love

How could you? I miss you, I missed you, I will still miss you.

If I have a chance, I would love to have not met you. But if I had not met you, I would not have the pleasure of knowing you, experiencing love the way I feel with you.

You make me feel like when I first knew my first long term boyfriend. Maybe you were meant to be a long term for me and in my bull headedness, ignored the feelings.

I try to recapture it with others, but they don't measure up to you.

Why do you still occupy my mind, my thoughts and my fantasies?

I love you, hate you, and really have totally mixed feelings for you. But I do know that I want you. Is it because you are the one that got away, or just simply because we are meant to give it a try?

I want you, to be in your life, to share your joys and sorrows, through sickness and health, and have your babies. I want to share your world.

Can we get back together, Mr SBS #16?

Unrequited love,
Connie NG

How To Leave

Think about leaving all the time. Let this thought consume you, eat at you, contaminate your inner dialogue. Let the topic dominate the conversations you have with your friends, your family, even strangers. Feel yourself become weighed down by your wavering. To stay to leave to stay to leave.

Imagine yourself in a new city, with new sidewalks, new people to watch, new sounds at night. Imagine the friends you’d meet, the steps you’d take, the mistakes you’d make. Get goosebumps over an idea.

Start to feel numb. Drive down the 405, take a walk on Ocean Avenue, go running in Hollywood and feel nothing. Go to your favorite coffee shops, drive through your old neighborhood, cook dinner in your apartment and feel the numbness spread and spread.

Become detached from your things. Your college sweatshirts, your hand-me-down desk, your cherry red Volkswagen. Gradually start to purge yourself of what’s keeping you here — your old notebooks, your faded posters, your colorful kitchenware. Quietly clean, pack, toss, donate, and repeat.

Notice yourself begin to feel lighter. Take a weekend trip home and then take another one. Drive to Santa Barbara for a few days. Stare out the window, let the sun pierce your skin, count your new freckles. Laugh so hard that you cry. Absorb the changes in scenery, in tastes, in weather. Spill your drink, get lost, stay up late, sleep so tight.

Drive back and sink into your thoughts. Feel a tightness in your chest, a stiffness in your breath, an uncertainty in your voice. Start to cut the strings that are still intact. Peel yourself away from the things you felt so glued to before. Goodbye job, goodbye apartment D, goodbye familiar everything.

Cry a little and then cry a lot. Walk past the ocean, pack up your bike, and zip your bags. Buy your ticket to your new place. Watch your legs shake, shake, shake as you click, purchase, print your way out.

Drown in your fear a little bit. Let yourself feel smothered by it, let your mind take you places, and let yourself feel outside of your body. Give yourself as much time as you need.

Then when you’re ready, pull yourself out of the fear pool you've created and feel something new. Feel alive. More alive than you've ever felt. Let your emotions swirl around you until they dissipate, until you’re left with just you and your choice.

Nauseated

That's what I feel when I am home.

That's how I feel when I head into the toilet after my dad has used it.

Is that a show of how I feel at home right now?

Maybe it's time for me to move out of this place - for real.

I Still Think About You

The following is extracted from Thought Catalogue, written by Charlotte Green, and I dedicate this to Mr. Bus 16.

Though a huge part of our largely-silent, post-dating acquaintanceship is based on the idea that neither of us have any interest in the other — that whatever happened between us is something entirely left in the past to wither and rot — I still think of you. I am not sure if that makes me the weak one in the equation (though I’m alright with it if I am), it’s just that the silence that is expected after separations seems too simple and, to be honest, too cruel. It’s as though a breakup of any kind means that whatever existed before is now somehow erased from the mutual history of both partners, never to be acknowledged again — and that just feels ridiculous.

And saying that I miss you wouldn’t quite be the right term, either, though I know that admitting you still think of someone you used to love immediately conjures up images of someone sitting alone in their room, listening to Death Cab or something equally emotional, and crying. I’m not crying. It’s just that, when I see photos of you or hear through the grapevine of something that you’ve been up to, I wish that reaching out to you wouldn't be such an inappropriate step. In fact, it’s the whole “this requires a long, drawn-out explanation of why we’re talking again” thing that really confuses me — am I not allowed to ever consider your existence again? In almost every other aspect of my life, keeping tabs on things and remembering what was good is something to be praised, something that makes you an adult. Somehow, this is the exception.

What have you been doing? Are you happy in your life? The things that you always talked about doing as we lay together in bed, looking at the ceiling in that kind of dreamy, half-asleep lull of honesty — are you doing them? I want to know what you’ve been up to, I am genuinely interested about the turns your life has taken and the people you are now choosing to spend it with. Perhaps it would be inappropriate to ask, but who are you dating now? Do you like her? Do you love her? I know it must sound strange, but I have a hard time picturing even the concept of love involving you and someone else. When you create such love with someone, as you do in a relationship of a certain magnitude, the entire word “love” seems to belong to you and you alone. If you have chosen to share it with someone else, do you mean it?

Do you think about me? I know, it’s selfish, it’s childish. Nothing screams “immaturity” like wanting to catch up with someone only to shortly thereafter find out exactly what percentage of their life has to do with you still, but I’m curious. As much as I genuinely find myself thinking of what your life must consist of, it would be comforting to think that you have the same moments of reflection about me. Tell me that something as great as we were sort of echoes through the rest of your life, occasionally tapping you on the shoulder to remind you of a past that you so clearly left behind. Tell me, because the world would seem a bit too cold if it didn’t.

I have thought so many times about the implications of contacting you, of telling you simply that you’ve been on my mind, and waiting for the repercussions to permeate through the twisted groups of our mutual friends. It seems almost an exercise in masochism, the unbridled exposure of one’s heart with the expectation that, at best, the other won’t actively humiliate you. Don’t humiliate me. This isn’t some white flag with the implication that “you won” some unspoken competition — I would hope that our time spent apart has moved us past the petty distinctions of “who is happy” and “who is sad.” I would hope that we have both become happy enough in our own lives, and on our own terms, that joy is not something that has to be divided up amongst us. I want us to both be equally in love with our own chosen paths.

Yes, I am still curious. I wonder what has happened to you since I last saw you, touched you, whispered something in your ear. I wish that getting coffee and catching up like old friends was something acceptable for the two of us to do, and not something that came with a million implications about how desperate the initiating party must be. But, in the interest of honesty, I do wonder. I guess I’d like to know that your life has gone as well as I had once hoped it might, and that what you have become is something that you can sit with at the end of the day and be proud of. I knew you were meant for great things, and I want you to achieve them (even if I may have experienced a moment or two of selfish jealousy in the midst of our separation). You deserve so many great things, not the least of which is my honesty.

I still think about you, do you think about me?

Married?!?

Again? Let's see what's the method this time round...

Sometimes

I look and try to see how you are. But I look, and I can't see.

There can be no more touching, unless a miracle appears. "There can be miracles, when you believe"...

Patrick J. Adams

That's the name of the man that I'm into at the moment... Wait, it's not just him, but also Harvey Specter, Jessica Pearson. Well dressed ladies and men, my absolute favourite!!

Sad Pang

Woke up this morning, after dreaming of you, and felt a sad pang in my heart.

I've decided to remove you from my life, but memories are so much tougher to remove.

I dislike it, but still I love the memories that we had.