All of a sudden, I just feel like going to Singapore and take a break from the bustle here, not that I despise it here, but I just feel nothing. Like everything is just like a shadow, useless,empty,barren, nothing. It feels like nothing. Like it doesn’t matter anymore.

I feel like just going back to Singapore and choose Life, choose life, choose a job, choose marriage, choose buying a car, choose riding the MRT, choose buying the one dollar can of juice, choose buying the insurance for my dog, choose a HDB flat, choose paying my medical bills through CPF, choose life, choose things.

The parties and the pressure here, I can’t take it anymore. I just feel even worse everyday, I feel not happy. I can feel happy, but I choose not to. I don’t feel the joy anymore. Cheap thrills don’t thrill me anymore. Joyrides are not joyful anymore.Then everything sums up to this burning question i’d ask myself:

does it all really matter?

I am not giving up yet. I’m just tired, probably it’s the booze just now.

God, the migraine.

ok goodbye.

does it all really matter?

I am not…happy.

It took my best friend just one failed relationship to realize the dark and bleak possibilities of love.

I took me several relationships. lol

i miss Kaskade already.

Why won’t you go? no means
No, the dirty life is like a one man
Show your a night attack you turn the
Light to black, so im turning left i
Told myself i could be bad as someone
Else but i found it hard with angels
On the right. but you held my hand,
And took me right back to times we
Had. i have an angel on my shoulder but
A devil in my head but you held my hand
And took me right back to times we had
I have an angel on my should but a devil
In my head.

-Kaskade’s ‘Angel On My Shoulder’

—-

but imu more.

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Sunday Nights

The thing about Sundays; this particular weekend day is so unpredictable and so impromptu that it can knock  you hard sideways and sometimes you lose yourself. (hahahaha, I can imagine Sunday as a wrestler, throwing me across the floor.)

It seems that the problems you had during the weekdays don’t seem to dematerialize. I don’t dread Sundays, but I loathe the day after Sunday, Monday.

Now that’s when you have hold the can of worms. Well, metaphorically.

Monday blues, they say.

Hmm.

I like Saturdays, they make me feel good about myself. No guilt, no pressure. It’s one of those few hours of your life where you don’t have to be responsible– like nothing really matters.  Everything seems to be so easy, so free, so loose, so pardoned, so liberated. It’s like the candy I use to eat when I was a child, you don’t have to bite, you don’t have to twirl your tongue in an awkward manner, and the candy would just dissolve on your tongue. No pressure, no force, no exertion, nothing. And the aftermath…..priceless.

Sundays, I would wake up(with a toothache), and…weird enough. Even I knew that will end, and when it finally does, I always get that inevitable brain spasm/wave that would whisper: DID I DO THE RIGHT THING??!!

OH WELLLLLLLLL.

Kaskade @Ruby Skye

Crazy crazy night i swear. But I felt allllllll the love from Kaskade. Glad that I was there.

MARY, WE NEED TO TALK. EMERGENCY.LOL.

It’s hard to live in the city, isn’t it?

Now that I miss you.

Does it really matter?

Laugh Out Loud.