And when I come back, I'll be 10kg heavier.

When in Taiwan, dress like the Taiwanese.

While my classmates take this overseas trip to be a fashion show and drown in their pretty branded stuff, I'll be throwing on some random F21 / Zara TRF thing and a few supercheap Hongkong-bought accessories and look just like a typical Taiwanese girl. Hopefully. Without looking like an ah lian.

Even when school's out, I go on Facebook and you're all over my News Feed. Your pictures, your name - they're haunting me. Thank goodness mum's not letting me bring the laptop because she needs to use it - I'll really miss the Internet, plus this is the first time since it mattered that I'm going overseas without my laptop, but at least I won't have to see your name anymore. I won't be able to look at your pictures even if I wanted to. I won't have to be reminded of you. It'll be a good break.

It'll be a good break, and I hope things will be better by the time I come back.

A Misunderstood God

"They say the only way to get to heaven is by believing in God, so a massmurder that've killed 200 kids could go to heaven aslong as he believes in God, but a doctor that saves lives everyday gives 100000$ in chairity and is the kindest person in the world and doesn't believe in God goes to hell... What kind of God is that to believe in... some saint..."

I've never believed that all who believe in God - or claim to - will go to Heaven. Proclaiming your belief is one thing; living it out with kind deeds, true repentance and the genuine desire to change for the better, to really have a compassion for other people's lives and want to help them, is another. If you claim to believe in God but your life and mindset hasn't really been changed by Him for the better, how much of a believer are you, really, and how different are you from a non-believer?

I don't think God punishes those who don't know Him, but those who refuses to accept His ways of kindness and selflessness, or doesn't do these kind things for the right reasons. It's all about the thoughts/motives behind the deeds, I think. The things nobody else sees but yourself, and God.

All I know is that I hate myself because of you

Omg, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, if only I could call you now and scream. down. the. phone. I want to scream. You're revolting. You're revolting. The girls understand when I tell them - they can't wait to slap you, either. The guys don't - is it normal for guys to be like that?

Please, no. If it's normal for guys to be like that I'm forcing homosexuality on me.

This is gross. You are gross. You're disgusting. The person you portray yourself to be is on the opposite side of the spectrum from who you really are. And I mean, if people knew you were a flirt it's alright because they'd take your flirting with as little seriousness as you do, but when they don't know it, you're playing along with them but they're falling into a deep hole because they actually think you're serious.

It's just mean.

DROWN NOW

I guess the aim of the game of life is never to put too much feelings into anything - emotions are everyone's downfall. But then humans feel, it's natural. So why does the world push us not to put our emotions into things? Not even relationships, at this age - the girls fall too deep because they don't realise the guys treat it like just another fun game - in the end, one spends her night in tears while the other looks back at the memories happily and moves on to the next pretty girl.

I could strangle you. I've already lost the no-feelings game. I fell for it. I put my life into the hole I dug myself with your shovel. Now I need to pull myself out.

Boy, you've left me speechless

It's now the end of the week since I made that vow

and I hate admitting I haven't totally completed what I set out to do by the end of this period of seven days - get over this mess.

I'm on my way, though. I hate you. The mention of your name enrages me. I could rant to anyone about how much of an asshole you are. I hate you.

Yet it's that immense anger and hate that reminds me that I've yet to lose my feelings entirely.

"I think I'm going to miss him while I'm away."

"Well, I won't be missing anyone that way, and nobody will miss me."

-

Got a 16GB iPhone 3G off eBay, but I doubt it'll come in time for my class trip to Taiwan. Imagine sitting in a plane for hours without music. I think I'm going to die.

-

"Hey! Actually I got you flowers too but didn't get the chance to pass them to you..."

"Haha why! But I wasn't even performing!"

"Haha thought it might cheer you up from your job"

AWW

Post-internship-at-the-library

Thanks Joash for accompanying me!

This is JC.

And the aim of the vicious JC game, it seems, is to get close in a slightly suggestive way to as many people of the opposite gender as possible - the slightly less pleasant word would be to flirt. Unwritten rule of the unwritten game - never get your feelings in too deep. Because then you'll be at the losing end while life goes on for everyone else.

I was talking to Reu one day, and I came up with this theory that the boys in the school are divided into three groups: the first group is infatuated with a certain very pretty and academically gifted girl in the school, the second group is infatuated with another very pretty girl in the school, and the third group doesn't like anyone - mostly because they're flirting with as many girls as they can, keeping their options very much open until they leave college life; an admirable few don't like anyone because they'd rather focus on their studies.

Oh and then there's the tiny minority that likes other girls.

Without love, life's a party that won't invite us

When two are in love, the days stream by in the skies, colourful ribbons marking the days of excitement, of life. Time flies - you're flying. It's so easy, so smooth. You don't keep track of the dates by their numbers - the memories of the time spent together are the date markers.

Nonreciprocal love - that's like a decade of starvation with little frequent breaks of ecstasy in between. The hours of staring into your phone, the times you two are in a room together and you wish he'd come over and say something - there are the times of pain and heartbreak. But there are also the times where a simple text or a tiny compliment would set your heart soaring. It keeps you happy and dreamy for a while - before you realise he still has his heart set on someone else anyway. Time is like a long, red line marked with pain, with huge dots of bright light and glitter marking the little events that made you swoon - the events that helps you make it through the weeks.

Like sneaking into a random school together at 9pm, or holding hands, or a special look he gives you - just you - across the lecture hall.

When you don't like anyone at all, your heart's supposed to feel freer, isn't it? Yet there's this gaping hole in my soul and it feels like it's sucking everything in. The hole's like a dead weight, if that makes sense. In the usual happiness and laughter of the day, there are the sudden jolts of realisation that there's nobody I'm living for. And nobody's thinking of me in that way, either.

Once, I could go to bed feeling ugly but I would tell myself it was alright; in the eyes of a certain someone, I meant the whole world. But then we parted and after months of tears, I realised I wasn't special to anybody anymore.

Now, as a deep-thinking INFP who yearns for something more to live for, there are times I wonder how I've managed to make it through more than a year without... even a kiss, without the reassurance of someone who loved me. There are times I imagine love going on in my head - but my partner is a stranger I don't recognise. I don't know him.

Maybe one day I'll meet him and realise he's the one who's been in my dreams.

Make a little love in the moonlight

"I know you hate all boys, but I'll bet there's one special boy. One that you hate more than all the others combined - right?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think about him sometimes? I mean, how much you hate him? You think about how you'd like to torture him? Like, dumping a whole wheelbarrowful of stinging ants on him?"

"Maybe."

"I hated somebody like that once. We were in seventh grade. I hated her more than anybody in the world. Yeah. Know what I did to her?"

"What?"

"I married her."

I hate you, and I don't understand why anyone else would stick up for you. Why people would say you aren't that bad after everything I've heard. You're despicable, but I guess it's something you can't help - boys will be boys, right? You're awful, disgusting, and I wish I could do something to spite you. I wish I were a super hot girl, just so I could spite you. I want you to yearn for something you can't get - I want you to know how it feels like not to get what you want. You and your bloody charm - a mask of innocence concealing the mind of an asshole. How things just seem to fall into place for you. How half the girls in the room that night had admitted to recognising your attractiveness and charm. What the heck, you don't even look good. Seriously.

Then again, it's a blessing to be average-looking (or worse) and not be one of those gorgeous, popular girls in school - sure, I'm sure all the guys would admit to having liked any one of them at one point in their college life here, but how much of any guy's love for these girls is real? When you're not pretty and not outstanding, and someone truly likes you for who you are inside, that's more precious than a thousand boys proclaiming their love for a pretty girl.

A select few are lucky enough to be the apple of the eyes of the whole school, and everyone else just fades into the distance. I'm one of those standing in the shadows, staring up at the light of the popular kids and wondering when I'll find the love they seem to get with the snap of a finger.

But there's the difference between a passing phase for a pretty face, and the love for someone for who she truly is.

Oh but what the heck. This is JC.

Books give me life

I considered what it would be like to be noticed for only one trait - like being left-handed, or brunette, or double-jointed - instead of for the whole of you. Here was Sarah talking about finding someone who loved you for who you were, not what you appeared to be - and your own mother couldn't even seem to manage it. "It's like tug-of-war," I said quietly, "and I'm the rope."

Underneath the table, I felt Adam squeeze my hand. He threaded our fingers together, his knuckles knocking against mine... we continued to hold hands under the table. I felt like as if I had a star in my throat, as if all I had to do was open my mouth for light to pour out of me. "What if someone else sees us?"

He turned his head; I felt his breath on the curve of my ear. "Then they'll think I'm the luckiest guy in this room."

With those words, my body became electric, with all the power generating from the place our palms touched. I didn't hear another word Sarah said for the next thirty minutes. I couldn't think of anything but how different Adam's skin was from mine and how close he was and how he wasn't letting go.

- Handle With Care by Jodi Picoult

Even Harry Potter can't cheer me up like Sumay does

Nobody understands me like you, dear, fantastically crazy childhood friend who has known me since I was, what, one year old. We've been through too much together. You know how Ron and Hermione have moments they totally can't stand each other, and moments they go crazy together, but through it all they know they understand each other completely and they can't do without each other (and Harry)? How even when one leaves for a while, or one storms away in anger, both of them know this won't last too long because their friendship is so much deeper than that.

That's like you and me. These past...sixteen years... we've been through a horrible lot of shiz. There were huge rows, a lot of tears, and through all of that, there was the desperation to salvage our friendship because even in our tears and anger we knew we couldn't do without each other. The hurt didn't kill us, and what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

Then there were the times either you or me felt like the world was coming to an end and all either one of us could do was to call the other and cry and cry and cry. Yes, there were our other friends, and we mightn't be able to meet up that much, but we knew that our friendship and understanding of each other transcended our distance. We knew we'd be there for each other. There would be no doubt.

What would I do without you, Sumay. The one who pulls me back down to earth when I need it, the one who provides the delusional, idealistic me with a practical point of view, the one who's there when I need to cry, the one who's there when I need to laugh like a maniac.

The one I'm there for when she needs to cry.

ACS boys

You know, I really wish I could be some super hot girl, just to spite you. You'd come running, running, but you'll never get me.

Oh I wish. K time to get skinny.

If you were one of the leaders, I'd put you and her in the same group, you know, just so you'd know what it feels like. Then again, you have the heart and memory of a goldfish; two weeks later you'll say "ah, suck it" and move on to the next pretty girl.

I have a picture we took together - the picture - on one of the tabs on my browser. My browser reopens all its last closed windows every time I use it so it's always there. Once, whenever I accidentally clicked on that tab and your picture filled the screen, I'd feel a little pang in my heart. Now it's like he's a different person. He was a funny boy... and you're just another stranger.

You are not worth an hour of my emotions, a second of my tears. But I've given too much to you. It's all in a big box at your doorstep - the time I spent ranting to people just days before the exams, the swirl of emotions wrenching my heart, the tears, the prayers, wondering how I'd ever get out of this mess. But you don't notice. Not noticing is one thing - when I've told you, you say things to make me happy - I wonder how much you've laughed at me for my idiocy.

Lead me on, like a desperate lovesick dog.

I am worth more, so much more. In my search for gold, I opted for the base metal. Well bye. I resolve to get over all this by the end of the week.

Six months of blog posts about you and I'm done with this crap.

Sometimes random people say the nicest things.

Waterworks on

thank god you're not around to read my blog, I'll say this now:

friggin' damn it,

he sucks.

he sucks ttm

PR outing, CCAAB and November Adventure when I'm in the mood.

damn la

I'd rather have you not lie to me.

Okay technically you didn't lie to me, but you know it.

I'm not even going to say you're an asshole

'cos I thought I had already made up my mind that you were one back in July. I just changed my mind along the way.

K BYE

Wait, I thought my heart was getting better

Because, you know, if we don't talk about it and if we pretend it doesn't exist, it just might disappear.

Well I know this boy. He's a funny boy. Maybe the lines were blurring a little once upon a time, it was a funny sweet time. But now...things change.

Hahaha he's a funny boy. And I'm a funny girl. And then maybe we could have fallen in mutual weirdness and

called it love.

I think I just needed to hear something, anything

but I'll believe anything you say

Thanks for allowing me to finally cease the hurt and confusion. I have a definite answer now.

-

Off for CCAAB camp! Our PR outing at Botanic Gardens was pretty awesome. Will blog about it when I get back or something, together with CCAAB camp, which I'm expecting to be really fun... and pimple-causing.

Everyone knows I should give up

I just... I don't know why I'm so bent on needing to hear you say it. To hear you say you don't like me. And I need to know why things changed all of a sudden. It was just too abrupt, too extreme to me, and seemingly without reason. I can't let go until then.

Once upon a time I was certain you didn't feel anything for me anymore, and tried my best to give up, and succeeded for a short while. But I was wrong.

Of course, it's plain obvious how different things are now as compared to before - I just really, really want to know why.

Letting go of this - and sticking to the decision to let go - is a big and tough choice to make, after five months of heart-soaring and heart-crashing, that will involve a lot more pain and hurt. And then the cycle begins all over again - how my heart's willing to leech on to anyone, people I know I would never like if I were sane.

The one thing that's good about having my heart taken by someone - whether it's reciprocated or not - is that I can truly treat my other guy friends like friends. I could hug any other guy and not feel a thing, whether disgust or blind attraction, because my heart's taken. When it's free, my mind becomes crazy, my feelings become crazy, it's disgusting.

The problem with books

is that I can't stop reading until I've finished it.

I would relate the following feeling to waking up to my phone's alarm, only to get out of my double-decker to press the Snooze button, and then escaping the muddled rush of the morning to return to the inviting, unchanging warmth of my bed. Here it goes:

I was reading Jia: A Novel of North Korea, and doing what books do, I felt like I was being transported to another world - one of fear and danger and of fighting to live for the sake of it. My mind was going crazy taking it all in and producing a vivid movie in my head.

After I had finished about more than half the book, I decided it was time to put it down and do what I had to do - stuff for the Exco and upcoming Council webpage. But my mind was still in a whirl from the book. I felt kind of lightheaded; my brain just wasn't working. I couldn't focus.

I opened my email and looked at the list of new messages - it was longer than it had been in a very long time (I check my Gmail super frequently since I'm online so much). I read some email about the Home Team Associates Programme that was for selected students who had fulfilled some certain requirements - oh gosh, I do want to tour the prison cells and all that, but I've got the ELL internship on that week!

(On a side note, this email startled me for a while because I had just been reading that North Korean book which was talking about prison cells and guards and policemen, and here I was, being invited to check out what they do at the Police Force, Prison Service etc. HAHA)

Anyway, then there were the list of other emails I had to attend to, not short at all and demanding a considerable bit of attention and work. Of course, I love Council and doing Council stuff really is a passion for me, but this time I felt like my mind just couldn't adjust. There were stuff I had to edit and rewrite and other documents I had to look through very thoroughly, and I just couldn't concentrate. My mind was a spinning whirl.

Then I decided I might as well appease my mind if I wasn't going to be able to focus and do my tasks well anytime soon. I closed my laptop lid, jumped back on the couch and went back to Jia.

Weirdly enough, I felt like I had returned to the world I belonged to. The long emails were a multitude of words mixed into a blur, but I was very clear about everything that was going on in the other world - the world of Jia. And my mind was nowhere but there, in North Korea and in China, where Jia had escaped to.

But seriously, an ending that leaves the reader hanging?! That's as good as not finishing the book! I can't rest without a closure. Perhaps it's because it's a real story. This book was published in 2007 - wonder how things are going now.

This is the first book of the year I've read, excluding the Lit texts and Kane and Abel, which I had already read in Sec 2.

Gosh I can't afford to get addicted to books again!

I've reblogged this thrice, but I love it

And the rattlesnake said,
"I wish I had hands so
I could hug you like a man."
And then the cactus said,
"Don't you understand,
My skin is covered with sharp spikes
That'll stab you like a thousand knives.
A hug would be nice,
But hug my flower with your eyes.

Harry Potter says

"Make it a powerful memory; the happiest you can remember. Allow it to fill you up."

Thanks to you, I can't think of any memory happier than the times we had fun together.

What the heck. This is too much. This needs to stop. Will you let me be honest with you? I'll tell you everything, I really will, if only you would give me the chance to. Will you tell me too? How long more will it take? Another six months? A year?

Reply me will you, so that I can tell you. Are you afraid of what you'll find out? Don't be afraid to talk about feelings - and let me talk about mine. I'm dying to let you know. I need to get over this mess.

If not for your reluctance to express your feelings, or allow feelings to be expressed,

you'd be perfect.

Running, running, running like a despo dog.