VACATION

I spent the first few hours in the morning typing a blog entry.

My system could not acknowledge anything that has the keyword ‘work’ in it.

All I have in my head is the image of me, chilling out with some drinks in a coconut with a crooked straw and some fancy umbrella sticking out at the side. You know, those things that looks pretty but rendered useless once the alcohol content of the drink is slurped up dry.

Getting drunk in a skimpy bikini on a solo vacation on some island is not bad at all. In my experience, it was a blast. I even had two eye candies hanging around my chalet area, a Spaniard and a Brit by the name of Jay and Isaiah. We played tennis together and went hiking as all three of us were solo travelers at the resort.

We even got drunk on a bottle of wine sitting down on the ‘mengkuang’ mat a few hours before sunset.

Amazingly, there was no hanky panky involved. What we had was one those short vacation friendships built on a basis that all of us were solo travelers and that we only wanted company.

There was no sexual chemistry, meaning that I did not get wet at the sight of the Brit hunk jogging Baywatch style at the beach or the Spaniard’s effortless looking 6 pack glittering in the tropical sun.

Despite my newly single status back then, I could not bring myself to having a wild ménage à trois of any kind. Deep inside, I still want to have a special meaningful relationship with one dic… I mean… man.

I and the Brit, Isaiah who was half black and half white, did make out… though… it didn’t even go to the cunnilingus phase. I was wondering (aloud) how it would be like kissing him (The Spaniard was sound asleep as a result of that cheap wine we overloaded on).

“Why don’t we try?” he asked.

And in a drunken slur, I said yes and giggled childishly before each of us stuck our tongues in each other’s mouth.

I was too drunk to remember how good was the kiss. I didn’t remember why we didn’t have sex either, maybe it was because I was knocked off with my tongue still in his mouth (NOT a good picture innit??? Maybe that puts him off, if I am to think about it now…).

We slept on the verandah, me hugging the Brit, wrapped in the hotel’s blanket. The next morning, we woke up to find the Spaniard had one leg a few inches away from my face.

It was just in time for sunrise.

Those were the Laguna Beach days for me. When all that ended, I had to sluggishly go back to crappy bosses and crappy routine life.

Unfortunately though, I did not keep in touch with both the Spaniard and the Brit. We just went on our separate ways after breakfast that morning.

So today, ‘saje je’ I bought my MNG shades and wear it while driving with Lily Allen blasting in the player (for some reason, when I listen to Lily Allen’s songs, it kind of reminded me of the beach) and to add into the ‘feel’, I wore a bikini set as underwear today.

I treated it kind of like a vacation ‘non sexual but more to accompaniment fling’. I had fun, and I wonder if they too reminisce of those days when they are stuck in the cubicle day after day.

To Jay and Isaiah,

Wherever you are, please know that I DO remember those short three days of my life. It was fun, we were young (-er) and we were not the control freak that we have all grown into.

Isaiah,

Did I or did I not leave my tongue in your mouth in the middle of the make out session?

Till It happens to you..

It's amazing how words of others describe what you feel inside...

3,4, tell me some more...

“How can I last longer?”

Asked a friend who admitted to being a one minute (or less) man.

I thought if a man goes well over the 10 minute marker like a frikkin’ energizer bunny and we are not enjoying the ride due to lack of shag skills, it would be pointless also.

Instead of giving him a solution to prolong uhm… staying power, I gave him an option, which was to maximize pleasure in whatever shag time he can achieve. I even gave him the break down.

FIRSTLY, it’s all about foreplay, I understand some men are really good at this, as oppose to the whole fucking process, if so, they should keep the spermy in for the first 10 minutes and let the woman gets it first via cunnilingus (This does not include those ‘I just have to have some right here right now’ occasion’).

SECONDLY, it’s POSITIONING. If you really suck at shagging , you might want to learn about the position the woman would get the most pleasure out of (This you would have to ask).

THIRDLY, is the intense energy/chemistry, which I personally learned has nothing to do with love (Sorry to disappoint you there) but has a lot to do with just how long was the last time she got shagged. A horny woman is the easiest to please, and we could get a satisfying ‘O’ in 1 minute even, that is if we have not been shagged for aeons before that.

He dared to ask me when was my last fuck, I told him to piss off unless he wants to be hit by the beer bottle I was holding at the time.

I am gay, pi main jauh – jauh.
--
If a manager does not look like a manager, act like one, talk like one, does it mean they can’t be one?

A manager has a lot to take care of. They have to be firm with the top management about their position, they have to take the blame over whatever mistakes their subordinates did without disgracing the said person and compromising your credibility as a head of department.

Tricky isn’t it? I know a few women who are not very good in this, that includes my previous ‘Mak Tua’ boss in previous company and now, possibly my present manager also.

I also know one person, to date, that is really good at being a manager, looking like one, and acting like one. She was the only reason why I left the company in the first place. And she is one of my best friends who has a mutual hate – hate relationship with my recent ex.

As for the above conclusion begging statement, I guess the answer has to be a yes. Afterall. You could only be either a leader or a follower. To learn to be come the other is either an upgrading or a degradation.
--
This was a guy who once told me that he wanted to be left alone.

Somehow, the situation that I am facing right now is strikingly familiar with what I had gone through with this useless bloke.

So when he called me on the weekends asking me for a drink, I SMSed a reply with an unfriendly ‘The hell do you want now?!’

You see, once upon a time ago, when I was facing a few problems, and I thought he was the only one who could understand me because I thought he was like my friends back in KL, I called him for lunch and also possibly a drink. He had just hooked up with a girl then. Before that, he was a mess and he told me that I was his ‘rock’ as he had noone then.

I was stupidly flattered.

But that day when he shouted at the top of his lungs telling me to piss off and get a life as he had his then, I was very offended. I was there when he needed me, and he bailed when it was my turn to need him.

I should have learnt from my mistake. I should have stopped being there for people because frankly, they will not be there when I am in need. And yet, two years later, it happened again to me, with someone different.

As for yesterday’s SMS, he didn’t reply after that angry text I sent him. I guessed he took the hint. Now I just hoped that I could go through the rest of the year without knowing any bastards like these people again. What I need is someone who is honest about being my friend and not just someone you want to hang around with because they are all alone or whatever bullshit excuses they could come up with.

Just for the record, I don’t want anyone who wants me to be their ‘rock’. I am noone’s rock. I would not come to the rescue if anyone’s ass got locked up, beaten to a sad pulp or in need of emotional support. I refused to do that now, except for a few of my good friends here in JB who were there when I was genuinely in need.

These stupid bastards could do well on their own I figured, and I don’t give a fucking damn, honestly.

I am not bitter, just disappointed.
--
In about two weeks, I am going to celebrate my 28th birthday.

My birthday is on the 11th of February. It marked the 28th year of me breathing, walking, talking and getting fucked on earth.

But I really thought that my birthday is somewhat jinxed. It was a few weeks nearing my birthday when I saw Trey off to the UK, it was a few weeks before my birthday that most of my relationships go kaput and it was a few days before my birthday that I would usually received dauntingly disturbing news about people around me.

So for this year, I don’t want to care about this little known fact about my birthday.

I want to go up to KL, celebrate it with what little friends I have left in this country, not before staying up all night chatting with my friends overseas. I also want to wear the LBD I bought from Dorothy Perkins a few weeks ago, together with the gold buckled stilettos I have impulsively bought with no reason whatsoever.

I don’t care if it’s a jinxed occasion, all I know is that I am 28, life is short and I don’t want to waste it.

Me log – 27.01.2007

There is only one place where you could find three complete strangers sharing a table during breakfast.

One’s a middle age Chinese man, the other is a smiley mamat with the typical waxed hair, and the last was a woman in a halter top reading the daily, looking somewhat stuck up and totally uncaring.

The woman turned out to be considerably, nice, even to the extend of friendly, this was apparent when she smiled and created small talk with the two men, before excusing herself to an empty table.

She was later joined by a Chinese couple, nobody she knows, just people who has no luck in getting a table in the crowded establishment which was a kopitiam that has been in business for the past 50 years or so.

The woman was me, a closet blogger, spent clubber with a slight hangover whose empty stomach has yet to be filled after 6 hours of restless sleep.

The cure was a glass of ‘Teh Peng’ and a plate of the famous fried rice in Hua Mui Restaurant.

This is my typical weekend mornings for me. After a night of serious partying and an unsatisfying sleep, I would take a drive to the city, specifically in Jalan Dhoby, which is actually one of the more notorious street, popular with sexy transvestite charging men RM 30 (or less for a good looking man) for an ‘Air-con’ job at night.

But I love the street in the mornings. The old shophouses reminds me of simpler times.

Yesterday was a great start to the weekend. I spent the night clubbing with friends at a launching of the latest joint to open, namely ‘Salivation’. Liquors were opened by the bottle, beers were free flowing in the exclusive circle of people that I was with. I met up with my ex colleagues who has become my friends eversince, yeah, them aggressive and up beat people. We had so much fun, and it felt like old times, pre BF, pre TheDude.

After the breakfast, I walked to the nearest mall to fix my frazzled nerves with Chamomile Lemon tea at Coffee Bean, I also did some random thoughts and put it down on paper.

Like usual, I am enjoying my me time but at the same time, I missed BF tremendously. I missed those times when we would spend it by watching DVDs at home and those kisses we would give each other on the couch.

I’d better learn how to spend my weekend alone. I don’t think I would get out from JB anytime soon.

PS : Sheryl babe, I know I am supposed to go over to SG to see you guys, but I really don’t have the mood to do all that traveling on the bus and whatnots crossing the border. I love you guys and hoping to see you when I go up to KL the next weekend.

Hugs & Kisses,
Sarcy

CHOICES

This morning on the way to work, I realized that I am fed up with my job, and this after only about 8 months on it.

Coming from a high profile profession, being low profile just doesn’t fit me. This has also, affected my personality in a way. I became more aloof and unmotivated to mingle around. The office consists of only 5 people in my division and 8 people from all divisions combined. Most of them are reserved Chinese, not able to let go and have fun.

Unlike my old office whose people were upbeat and aggressive, the colleagues here are slow and receptive. And in an almost sublime way, more genuinely helpful. Heh, now that is something new.

The only reason why I left my previous job was because of the 50% jump in salary. I could not afford to let that pass me by. In my scale, job satisfaction could make way for financial gain. Satisfaction alone does not pay the bills you see. So I fled.

I do not regret it though I miss my old job. Back then, I have a reason to dress up and look pretty. Here, I could have just come in shorts and tank tops and ‘Selipar Jepun’ if I could (Which I couldn’t, Pah!).

And the dreaded 45 minutes drive through the terrible jams, unless I want to contribute to Samy Vellu’s hair transplants by paying toll fees that totaled up to about 9 bucks to and fro.

Choices we made, by far, mine had been influenced a lot by the number of digits I get on my payslip. I mean, apart from the choices I made on personal life front. Choices like hanging out at some desolate pubs near Hyatt Regency to have a bottle of Heinie alone at the bar, listening to Corinne Bailey Rae’s Stars (which was the soundtrack for Grey’s Anatomy by the way… love that show! Made me ‘perasan’ like I am acting in it)

In a way, now, I think my life evolves around people who want to talk to me and who wants to hang out with me, like the skinny NST reporter, the slightly pudgy BH journalist and some other exhausted journalists from other press houses. They are tired of covering news on the floods and to them, another flood is just another flood. They lost a few good shoes and clothes and pants thanks to wading through the chin high murky waters, but then it’s part of the job.

Other than that, I go to sleep around 10.30 pm, automatically wakes up at 6.30 am and goes back on the dot everyday on 6. No more clubbings on a work night, no more sleeping past 7 am, and no more late drunken nights and hangovers.

In short I have become boring and uninteresting. I would rather get drunk at home on cheap wine (Or good ones, depending on how much credit I want to blow on my VISA) alone, slurring away to the moon or stars or my good trusty bitches (My cats, that is.)

I don’t even have ideas anymore. Back when I would be constantly thinking out of my skull on publicity projects, now, everything is pretty much straight cut. I handle predictable complaints and problems, rude customers and sales representative and compile boring daily reports.

How do they manage to give me my 50% extra pay on that kind of work load? That is still a mystery to me, actually.

Until I get around to figuring that out, I am grateful for the choices I managed to make, even the bad ones. At least, I am still very much alive to make it.

And…. Life goes on

Dear Melancholic twat, PICK UP THE PHONE!

The above was the exact words that was sent to me on my long unused and redundant PDA.

It came from V, one of my friends in KL.

MsV is a cynic, she has refused many romantic requests from men to be their other half and NEVER believed in anything that came out from the mouths of these ‘Incorrigible mothafuckas who would hump anything that moves’.

I can’t blame her really. After two crappy relationships where she caught both of her exes having sex with model wannabes in their apartment, and a gazillion of other equally crappy ones, she has decided to stay single till the end of time. She would rather care for her cats than tending to moronic egotistical male ego.

Yup, she is a real male hater. I would not even try to introduce her to any of my guy friends in fear that she will bruise their pride permanently and decide to turn to gays after an encounter with little MsV.

Somebody told her about my condition, and according to her in her email, she has been trying to call me on the phone but all she got was my voice mail. à Duh!

You see, I put my phone on flight mode for a week because I was feeling really down in the dumps and I didn’t have the mood to talk to anybody. I spent my time crying, meditating, crying and watching soppy Tele-movies.

Needless to say when I called her back after a week hiatus over the weekend, I got a spoonful of curse words and what nots from her. Somehow, I could still remember the sweet V once upon a time ago who would blush at the mention of the ‘F’ word.

MsV has become bitter, and undeniably umm… vulgar. I could safely assume that it was because she has given up on trusting men, in particular. She was so bruised and disappointed that she would not even so much as think to let in another one again in her life.

I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to end up so bitter and frustrated that it affects my life permanently.

… Feeling the wind through my hair

I called up a friend recently to ask her about Go – karting.

I figured, I must really have another hobby to add on to my fitness regime and since my search for a non senior citizen ballroom dance classes have not churned out any desirable results, I decided, to hell with grace and give speed and recklessness a go instead.

For starters, I scraped the idea of getting my own ‘Kart Jumpsuit and helmet’ due to my ‘Laporan Belanjawan’. In short, I will use the ones that I hoped not to be laden with bacterias coming from other people’s sweat and stuff.

I was told that they disinfect it every day with anti bacterial sprays and what nots. I REALLY DO HOPE SO.

It will be a sure change from manning an SLK (Small Little Kancil) to those CLKs (Cute little Karts). For one, I think it will totally, I hope, better my manual driving skills.

Wait, those are manual right? I think I’ll ask T later about that.

My first session will be the weekend after the next, and already, I can feel the ‘rama-rama dalam perut.’ (Butterflies in tummy).

Switch it Off and On

I am like a light switch on the wall now.

LX said I am getting a bit unpredictable nowadays. There were times when I would be staring at one blank space for a long time and there were times when I would just act as if everything is behind me now.

I would sometimes think about all those things that BF told me, even going all the way to what TheDude and I used to do when we were together.

The thing is, the break up with TheDude didn’t feel half as remorseful as it does with BF. Sometimes I wondered why, sometimes I chucked it out of my system.

Maybe I was just not THAT into TheDude and that I was ACTUALLY genuine about BF.

Now THAT’S a thought.

I Miss You

A big group of friends having late night supper @ Mamak always brings back memories.

In KL, it was sort of like a ritual, after a long day at work or college, we tend to get together and drink sweet chai and load up on unhealthy carbo, which made all our yoga and gym wasted.

We were a mixed bunch. Half of the ten people sitting in that table were mixed bloods, me a Malaychinese, a Chindian, a Punjabi + Japanese and Caucasian Malays. The other half were everyone else from anywhere else in different parts of the world.

Some of us studied, some of us hold big posts at corporate organizations, some of us were self confessed bums who made sure that their food and drinks will be paid for on that late night session, some of us were beautiful, some of us were average looking, some of us speaks with an accent and some of us didn’t.

And the best part was that, we don’t care.

Now years on, I am here in this god forsaken part of the country, two of the late night ritual members have gone to God’s lap, two of them migrated to Australia, the Malay Caucasian, who was the man who loved and still do love me is in the UK, a big time lawyer, the bum is now a jetsetter, who remembers to call me once in a while and always insisted on paying for that once in a blue moon lunch or dinner. The Chindian is due for a flight today back KL to take the next plane to NZ.

Those times were times before the advancement of digital cameras, thus we do not take many photos, and all we have of each other were recollections of those times, where we would sit there, me in my tanks and pajama bottom, ‘selipar jepun’ and my hair up in a bun, talking and making stupid tacky jokes.

There were some instances when a member of the group would hook up with another, only to go back as friends later on. They said it was because they are made to be friends and not lovers.

They confessed sheepishly that the sex was good, but it won’t work.

The Malay Caucasian, Trey, told me that we were supposed to be lovers. From that very first day we met, when we unknowingly wrestled for a piece of fried chicken at the uni cafeteria, and that second day he, a law student, slipped into one of my politics lectures just to get a glimpse of me, from that day he told a snob that he was in love with me because I am not her, and that fateful day when he received news that he had to fly off to the UK for the sake of his education and insisted on going on with the relationship, he insisted that we are made to be lovers.

God has plans for us. But there are such things as one is destined to be friends rather than lovers… and vice versa. I think it is part of the plans.

And I learnt that from the big group laughing and talking at the Mamak, once upon a time ago.

I missed that.

My Funny Friend And Me

When Reggie arrived, I hugged her and cried.

The last time I behaved so precociously emotional in public was when I saw Trey off to UK. I sobbed all the way back to the apartment.

You have to understand, I have never portrayed myself as a vulnerable person. To my family, I am every bit independent and rebellious. I don’t cry when somebody bullied me when I was small, I retaliated. Unlike my sister who complains about everything to my parents, I prefer to keep it to myself.

Because of that, I am neither close to my Mum, Dad nor to anyone of my two siblings. Also because of that, I tend to look for affection and love somewhere else, from someone else.

I was suffering from depression 4 years ago. This happened when I was in KL. I was secretly popping a variety of pills, anti depressants actually in order to live as normal as I could. I was on therapy, fucking expensive therapy as well. I got off the mess when I was 25.

Reggie insisted on being here with me because I was there with her years ago, during one of her most difficult slump. Now, she is married to a guy and stays in NZ, and we talked regularly online.

So now I have to have a reserve account for tickets to NZ, so that I could fly down when it would be her turn to need me.

I and Reggie spent time after work talking. She doesn’t know anybody from JB so she stayed in her hotel room during the day, waiting for me to finish work. I feel bad actually for not being able to be with her but she assured me that she was ok with it.

In one of our conversations, I told her everything about the person whom I care so much about. Then I realized that I actually remembered a lot of him, his habits, those little facial expressions he made unknowingly, those little things that we don’t usually know we do.

Reggie sighed, heavily. Looked at me and shook her head. She hugged me, the silence, interpreted sounded something like;

“You are screwed girl, you are in love, and you are screwed big time.”

I don’t want her sympathy, or anyone else’s. I only wanted empathy, some understanding would be good, and for them to just LISTEN without offering solutions or advise. What people don’t know is that we do know what we have to do most of the time, but most of the time we are either scared or unwilling to carry out the solution.

Thank God for Reggie, I am coping. She has been a great help and honestly, I think I could go on with my agendas now, without thinking of the love that was not reciprocated (I was going to put unreciprocated but then I got confused with irreciprocable and wondered if the latter was even a word.).

That L word is a big word, indeed, and I should not toy around with it like a kid with a frikkin’ toy ball.

A day After

Trey called yesterday.

When he heard of the passing of a dear friend, he called me up. I was in no mood to talk. I could feel the presence of his fiancé beside him, somehow, and I do not think it was appropriate. I sensed him moving away.

Somehow, he got to know about my condition from another friend, who is on her way back to Malaysia to see me.

“How did you become so needy?”

His voice, for once echoed in the phone. It is the same tone he uses when he is trying to suppress his anger.

“I am not.”

“What happened to the fiercely independent chick I got to know 5 years ago? What happened to that?”

I hesitated before answering.

“She died. No longer here.”

There was a long silence. I was alone at home at that time. My cell phone was not in use. I was holding a glass of wine and was looking at half a bottle of red on the table.

Trey didn’t say anything. He was quiet on the other hand.

“Sarcy, I wish I am there with you now.”

“Why? I can take care of myself. You guys have fabulous lives. I want you guys to live it up. You guys meet great people. I am just not destined to. Now I am asking myself why I am in this clique anyway.”

“Because you are fabulous.”

“I think WERE is the operative more suitable word now.”

“You are giving up on yourself.”

“I gave up on a lot of things, dammit and I don’t care.”

I lost a part of myself, and having no one to turn to, I keep it to myself, I lost two friends to cancer in two years, and had no one to turn to, I turned to God. Being that I was never one his favorites, I think he ignored me.

Maybe J was right, I need to move, I need a fresh start. I need to not be there all the time for other people. I need to turn off my phone, or change my number. That number has been with me for ages and it is also because of the fact that I never changed my number, that person managed to call me and we got into the crazy groove once more.

I need to be there for me. and the best thing to do it is to avoid that person, avoid being a friend anyone can count on, because when that happened, you become vulnerable, and that concept of being there for other people would be ingrained in you and eventually, you will lose yourself.

All those memories haunt you day and night. You can’t eat, you can’t sleep, you can’t live and you let the past consume you… like that stupid Japanese movie I caught a few days before.

The worst to deal with are those happier times. Those things always managed to put you down to the oblivion of lows, because it promised somewhat, a future, that things will work out.

But things didn’t.

I regretted many things in life, among other things, I didn’t say yes to Philip’s request to fly over to Boston a week before he died, I said yes to meeting up with that person for the second time and to start over a year ago, and I asked Trey to go without me, because I believed he could go far, and I would not be able to help him with it.

Trey is my biggest regret. I never got over it. Speaking to him and the fact that the both of us still do care about each other makes it worst.

I think I do need a vacation.

Silent Regret

When you decided on giving up on a friend, trust me, it is a big deal.

Especially, when you have so much faith in that friend and you believe (In this case, it really meant, thought.) that this friend of yours could go far, and he or she could also be there for you, in time of need, in those times when you have noone else to turn to but them.

And this happening just a day after a good friend went away, to GOD, is a big deal. When you lost another one of your reliable friends, friends who will always be there for that occasional ‘I want to get drunk’ session, on a permanent basis feels like losing a part of yourself, because this person knows you too well, it feels like this person chipped away a part of you, as a souvenir.

I admit I have been very problematic for the past few weeks. I went through a certain recent event by myself and it made me feel emptier. I want nothing but close friends, friends whom I could hold on to tightly and cry to. The fact that all of the friends I could hold onto are not in JB made it worst. I feel lonelier and naturally, I hoped to fall back onto someone who is closer, who I thought knew me.

Just to find that the person didn’t really want to be there for me, really. That person never did, and that made it harder to believe in the so called friendship that I personally thought we had.

I lost a friend to cancer last year, and last Saturday, I lost another dear friend to the same disease. I didn’t know who to turn to, and when I received the news, I stood in the rain for a few minutes. After that, I took some sleeping pills and went to sleep.

It was not a good sleep.

The next day, I felt like going out. I want to go out, have lunch with anyone who would, and I started calling, one by one said no, but Anna said yes, bless the girl. After lunch, I walked to the bus stop, also in the rain, tried to clear my head.

I went to catch a movie, alone. And then I bought a bottle of wine, and I make the call again, seemed like everyone was feeling uppity, everyone have something to do, but me, the person who just went through mess and whose friend just died.

But no one knows that.

And then it happened. And then I gave up. And then I felt sad. And then I ran to the washroom and bawled my eyes out.

And then I swear to never let anyone in my life like that again.

For someone as insensitive as I am, I never thought that those words will scar me for the rest of my life. I never thought that someone would get tired of being there for me, when I made a promise to myself that I will always be there for them.

I got tired. I said nomore of this.

In memory of Philip, who was a great friend, a great father and a great confidante. I would ask why do you have to go in times when I would need you the most, but then it would not be appropriate to question God’s will.

Remember those times when we would drink ourselves silly, finishing a bottle of Cabernet on the balcony of Rimi’s apartment? Slurring through a conversation?

I was thinking of doing that again, with someone whom I thought was one of my dear friends… but guessed I was wrong. I thought of reprising those moments where the two of us would just talk, in a drunken stupor, with someone whom I thought was a close friend of mine, in hopes that somehow that would make me remember you fondly, as I thought it would feel the same, drinking with this same person, as I had, with you.

Guessed I was wrong.

So tonight, when everyone in the family has gone to sleep, I hoped to drink this bottle of wine with you, in spirit, and get drunk with you in spirit. I know I will never be alone, because I know you will be there in spirit, with me.

Love thyself

A friend once told me that the only way to learn how to love, is to learn to love myself.

It is easy to fall in love with one’s self, and for someone as selfish as I am, it is even harder to let go of that self love to love someone else.

A fortune teller once told me, without me wanting so much as to believe him that I might be totally infatuated with myself, but once I fall in love, for real, I will crumble and will never again have faith in that single elusive entity, in case it never worked.

I shrugged that off.

So now, I am trying to once again, fall in love with myself yet again. I would like to be just as self absorbed, and uninterested, the way I was a few years ago.

There are many more things to do in life than to beg for someone’s affection and time. There are many other things to do than to get hurt even if that person says it was not meant to hurt.

Love thyself, before you love others. Protection or just plain defensive? I don’t care, really, just leave me the hell alone.

........ Umm

One morning I just woke up and got sick of everything, so I cut my hipsters to shortpants, donated my blankets and privatize my other blog.

And I came up with this.

Aftermath of physical pain make you do strange things.