so i’ve moved.

448 in roman numerals.
like i’ve mentioned. this is 443. so, go figure.
shouldn’t be too difficult to find.

like fuck.
i got 448 wrong.
this blog is fucking 443.
so i’m moving. / hv moved / will eventually move.

downward spiral indeed.

randomnity

i want to make a film!
i’m going to be stupid. am going to go to places.
take random shots.
of people. of places. of rain. perhaps.
and then do a voiceover.
something i’ve written. or something i’ll write.
and keep it in my secret stash.
i need to stay keeping things.
because perhaps one day,
they’ll mean something.

i think the rain keeps people sane.
because of its calming effect.
there’s something oddly peaceful about a rainy monday afternoon
when you’re alone at home of course.
(don’t need more voices. there’s enough going on in the head.)
you don’t sleep. don’t eat. don’t think.
or maybe you think. just not in the ‘oh my god what the fuck i should die’ way.

and err..
try spending/wasting time watching Ang Lee’s film – sense and sensibility.
hugh laurie is SO cute. small role. uber cute, nonetheless.
only because he’s mean and cynical.

people are oddly annoying though.
some people are annoying the shit out of me by talking.

i need to write today.
but i don’t write at home.
and i’m too damn lazy to head to dome.
bleh.
oh well.
maybe i’ll watch something else.
i’m starting to think that i’m REALLY a boring fuck.
which 20/21 year old stays home during the holidays and gets happy by watching classics?!
kai, you’re hopeless.

it’s the stupid people who’d oversimplify your pain.
and reduce you to nothingness.
so don’t be affected, kai.
don’t be upset.
because if you are,
it only means you’re worse than stupid.
and that won’t be a good story to tell.

honey, get better. for you’re too damn good for him.

kai says:
*if he’s got brains
*he’ll realize tt yr enthusiasm is an overcompensation and tt u kinda like him
*if he’s got any brains at all.
*and if he’s got a heart, he’d stop being flirty if he wants to keep his girlfriend at the same time
*you’re too kickass for him!

what’s whiny and boring.

the only thing i can do is to touch you and hope that you know i love you, hope that you know i’m not rejecting you, hope that you know i wish i could do anything and everything for you. although all i can do is to let my frail dry ugly hand slide down your immaculate and lovely jaw, and it’s really quite pathetic. perhaps also utterly disappointing and distasteful. but that’s all i have left. and all i have for you. i wish i could cook for you, take care of you, promise you happiness, carry the weight of the world for you. but all i have is this – the occasional strength i’m able to muster to remind you that i love you, and i pray that my all is enough for you. pray that my all would make me worthy of you. afterall, i could live for you, die for you, do anything i can for you.

chanting fuck.

i’m pms-ing like a bitch you wish you’ve never met.