Thursday, January 28, 2010

need an outlet

fuck so fucking so underappreciated so




get a fucking grip

When the lights are turned down low.

We've been drinking and it doesn't get me anywhere.

A pretty suicide.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Gasoline routine.

There was once a boy who believed in himself.
He believed in dreams that he didn't understand.
He believed in a family.
He believed in God.
He believed in happiness and the future of the world.
He believed he was special.

Over time,
He lost faith.

In a happy family.
In a hated parent.
In an isolated God
constructed by men
and he said no no i believe i believe
but deep inside
he did not
In himself.
There was doubt in everything.

Over time,
The world turned from large fields and blue shirts
death and terror
beatings and torture
muscles pushed to the point of exhaustion
stomach punched
shaking knees that would not hold still
hands that would never again be still.

Over time,
He lost


God, where are you? I do not talk to you anymore, do I? Did I ever? Do I believe in you? Why? Why?

I am despicable.

I hate so many people.

I know that the feeling is mutual for a lot of people.

I once was somebody. Something

No, I wasn't.

I thought I was.

But what am I now? A washed-up failure addicted to wasting time and feeling depressed and annoyed and shoulders constantly bunched up in tension and agonizing pain

Over time,
he met
a stupid song
konstantine is walking down the stairs
he learned to type without looking
but there would be mistakes
all over the place
and eventually
he would forget the position of each key


he fell in love
are useless
in his hands.


get over her

it's the feeling

of being helpless

of realizing that

He took it for granted that he would end up in Oxford or Cambridge. That he would be tall and athletic and brilliantly witty and naturally talented and a world-famous physicist that he would be all the things parents want their kids to be because they never managed to be

it is knowing that he failed

and there is no chance to go back.

It is knowing that he met a girl who may have liked him. A girl who was so many things at once. A girl he did not know

who lied


A girl who still loved her ex.

A girl with his favourite pick.

A girl who

It is knowing that despite everything

He has become just like her.

It is sitting and waiting for the tears to come but


as always

Just sitting.

And waiting.

My Konstantine.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Let go.

I was wishing Philip Yim happy birthday on Facebook when a couple of thoughts struck me.

  1. I really should be doing work.
  2. Karven Kwan just wished him happy birthday too.
  3. Karven Kwan is Peter's sister.
  4. Peter is May Jean's ex-boyfriend.
  5. I recently saw that MayJean Ooi has two profiles on Facebook.

If I'm being honest, I don't think I've got over May Jean.

In completely unrelated news, K-

Never mind.

Strange how this blog has (relatively) so many hits. I've almost forgotten about it.

So. Letting go.

What does that even mean? People say it like it's some sort of on/off switch that we're just reluctant to flick.

*lets go*

Residual feelings can lead to long-term damage.

I feel funny whenever the thought of May Jean comes into my mind.

I get that familiar sink of the heart. The empty, yawning chasm of hopelessness and desperation and pain opens up and my heart falls



It's not so much her as it is the idea. I think.

I don't know.

It's what she represented.

It hurts very badly to find out that you've put your love in the wrong person. It's also very crippling.

I...have lost the ability to write. Not that I was any good at it before, to be honest. I just thought I was. My superiority complex has abandoned me.

Heart still feeling lost.

I mean,

I love Lerida. Right?

Shot to the heart, I need a shot to the heart.

11.57pm, which means another day of tiring lectures. But tomorrow is worse, of course. There's the heart-pounding math lab. The heart-pounding part coming from the knowledge that there is 20 minutes left to finish problems that I do not understand how to even begin cracking.

Then there's the two 1 and a half hours lectures for Engineering and Chemistry. I inevitably find myself battling off sleepiness during both lectures. I have to fight to stay awake. I always fail. Eating and drinking only lasts for as long as the cereal bar. Also, I recently bought fruit bars, and they taste like utter crap. Not sure if I can eat tomorrow then. This is looking worse and worse.

Oh and then there's Engineering lab, which is usually easier. Except this week's assignment was tough, so I'm expecting a tough lab too.

And of course, to round off a brilliant day, there's a Physics lab.


May Jean.

I don't know.

It's funny. I can't pinpoint any one specific thing that attracted me to her so madly. Other than the fact that she's pretty, of course. I used to think she was the most beautiful thing in the Universe. I could stare at her un-made-up face for as long as she would let me and I would not want anything else.


It was not how she looked so much as something about the way she looked. I don't think I can describe it, but you'll know what I mean if you've experienced it before. There's just something that tells you to takes the jump.

What a jump.

I've never fully recovered. I've been able to lie, most recently to myself, that I've recovered, but I haven't. Long-winded words.

The ghost of you lingers.

I had a nightmare, nothing could be put back together.

I don't ... miss her. I don't think I do.

Do I miss feeling the way I did?

In some ways, yes, I guess. I wouldn't mind to feel so insanely, madly in love again. But the only way you get that is to feel the worst ways too, so yeah. There has to be some sort of 'wanting' factor to that too. Things that you don't have always seem better.

Another wasted late night.

Constantly searching for that one song that encapsulates everything I'm feeling. That one song that I can let go to. That one song to which I can break down and finally, finally be free. That one song that will never come.

You told me you'd loved me.

In a strange way, What Could've Been had the most heartfelt lyrics I've ever sung. They were pretty much taken from a poem by Melanie, but there was something about them that struck a chord.

In all my songs, I hide behind laughable metaphors and nonsensical words. It makes sense that a simple, 'cliched' song would be the one that struck home.

I am feeling miserable.

And there's nothing you can do to stop me.

Take what you will from my mistakes. Ultimately, the only thing you will learn is that

you have to make your own mistakes.

And bear with them for the rest of your life.

May Jean, if you're reading this,


Friday, September 11, 2009

Other stuff.

I wonder how many people will read this.

The opportunity cost of reading this post is not worth it. I have nothing important to say.

I just need to say that I need to say something, is all.

Feelings. Emotions.


Little sky,
do not speak to me in that tone, please please


support firefox 3.x please


Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Fuck your good mood.

Cold Comfort for Change has become my semi-private ranting blog. I don't think anyone reads it.

Not even me.

Anyway, I had a go at trying to be a normal human being. Guess how that went?

Well, you know what, fuck you, good mood Wayne.

I should stop here.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Monday, July 20, 2009

From her private blog.

Everything has been happening so fast and I'm allowing it all to happen because I know we don't exactly have the luxury of time. It's out of my character I know. Then again, he brings a totally different side out of me. Do I hate it? I don't think so. I have no reason to so far. In fact, every rash decision I've been making lately, I don't regret.

Friday, July 17, 2009

If I Could Be Like That

None of us have really moved on.

I feel like falling down
But there's nowhere further down.

None of us know what we want.



Can't forget. Lack of effort.

I've been thinking lately that-

I keep going.

Do you still see her in everything?

In hair tied at the back
Shirts pulled up at the shoulders
And jeans


Why? Why stop?

Are you scared that these thoughts
That you can't decipher yourself
Will spew out unhindered
Pushing a way through
Protesting words
Waves of the hands
They mean nothing


December tore apart
In wild shrieking screams and sturdy boughs
Moaning as they slowly bend and bend and bend
And crack
And snap


"Love, where is your fire"

Mood swings

Tight blue cotton jacket, brown 3/4 pants

I'm holding my heart
In my hands
It looks disgusting.

Speaking words that spiral to my feet
They stare up at me
They accuse

Is she worth this?

No one knows.

We don't know.

My mind shuts down.

Is it so hard to understand

Don't ask God to make life easier, ask him to

make you

a stronger person

They say. I don't know.

You were here once. I knew you before. Have you changed? Please let me know



Aren't you tired of
for the biggest lie

And you'll be friends till you die.

You are guaranteed.



And everything else.

You don't know if you want me I don't know if I want you and we're not

in a



Hi, honey. You look terrible in that dress. And that faux smile. And those pretentious eyelashes.

And I don't know what is-

Here there everywhere

I'm wrong, but I have a lot to add. To say. In a hoarse voice that feebly screeches below mid-range. I'm too old for this to go on.

Too old to be waiting by the phone



I could be somewhere else

Someone else

Doing something else

Flying overhead in a slipstream

By a lake on a chair

Anything else

Do you still see her?

What is she to you-


And this is how it ends

Hold your breath, dear.

This is where it all begins.

I need you more than you need me and

This will not end well.

Good luck


It could have been worse

Please learn

From what went wrong


And over.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Stop me if you've heard this one before.

  • Men cannot read minds. Can the hints.
  • Yes and No mean Yes and No.
  • When you come to us with problems, we intend to solve them.
  • If you say Nothing's wrong, we will not attempt to figure out what is wrong.

Kaka and Ronaldo move to Real.

Sunday, June 07, 2009


Went out. Found myself surrounded by happy people. Decided to keep going out to a bare minimum.

Can't stand people.

Can't stand life.

Might have been a mistake to agree to Promtay gig.

O well.