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| Love SellsOBS, indescribable, and in a good way.
This is probably how it feels to be proven wrong ten times over.
/
During sailing, and a relentless dip-pull routine, we spontaneously break into a cacophonous din; the chorus is guided to a loud crescendo. And we belt,
"How does she know, you love her?
How does she know, you care?"
"Just ask me la."
That's point blanc practicality, for you. Spoils the romantic in everyone, tsk.
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| Love StoryHaving yielded to the relentless impracticalities of fiction press, whilst listening to sappy love songs put on the repeat, I must say I have entirely surrendered to the feeling of being in love, rather than being in love. Alas, young requited love; the clichéd endings (I especially like brother's hot best friend, as opposed to best friend-turned-lover. Call me strange.) Such lies. But such beautiful, intricate lies.
Definitely a lethal combination designed to make any girl swoon at delightfully unrealistic fictional text (yes, fantasizing over hot, unattainable men can actually be an art) and render incessant flutters in their digestive tract and their hearts into pliant gloop.
I have returned to you, fp.
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| VerdictWe confront decisions everyday of our lives.
And very often, I find myself regretting previous decisions made and wishing to defy time to change the consequences of decisions made. And yet, it is those decisions which make us stronger, wiser, and perhaps more seasoned.
I honestly don't know if the decision I made will be the right one, since I'm still kinduv riled about some things.
We'll see.
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| PresageHinged hearts,
Painted parapets,
Bloodied masks.
Through barred windows, she watches, dreaming of strips of colours dancing against a clear milieu of sky; of hopes and dreams, and of them. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, same day, every day. Time is of no consequence, it holds no significance. It is her alone, standing inside her own shadow, waiting for him to shine light in dark, to lead her on the other path.
So she waits, blind in the shades of her own chicanery.
/
There lives no presage.
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| GobbledygookAristal's over, and I miss it. I miss the pretty dressing rooms, the endless packets of biscuits and even the makeup in which I look so horrible in.
I cut my hair. It's thinly fringed and makes my eyes look even bigger than normal but whatever. It's not much of a change really.
I went out, to the Institute of South East Asia. Not exactly what you'd call fun but it was interesting, listening and learning things that had never crossed your mind as things you'd needed to know.
I can't wait for Streetfest and that sleepover they've been talking about. And I happen to want to go out. Muggers+ bimbos, unite! KBox, please? And who wants to watch KungFu Panda with me, I have a free ticket! Haha.
Why hasn't there been news?
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