C'est La Vie

Slit in and out...

Out a pub.

There were words, yes there was feeling, a touch, an understanding, an unvoiced pact.

you're never going to see me again

There was a smile playing across her lips, yes then there was laughter.

--
you can't take this from me

You can't blame me, you won't see me.

Then there was fear, oh the underlying fear, lurking around.

She can't face it.

..

Every time I try to write "was" while I'm texting, my dictionary always makes it "yas". How pathetic is that?

One day, my cell phone dictionary had one of its abnormal tantrums, and it wiped all those words I had painstakingly entered into the dictionary, which mind you, included quite a few commonly used obscenities and well-placed, yet random, words here and there. I had also just put in my Sociology teacher's name in it. Her good name is Yasmeen. But it wasn't in the dictionary any more, and I had to use it (not in an excessively polite context, I assure you) while I was texting my friend the day before my Sociology O Level exam.

Thus the first word I added into my oh-so-recently wiped out cell phone dictionary was YASmeen.

Maybe God wanted to teach me a lesson for referring to her person in an impolite way.

And so every time I write "was" while I'm texting, my dictionary always makes it "yas".

He steals?

*resurfaces from a bout of emoness*

Hello, Wolrd.

As my friend never fails to mention to me almost every morning at 7:30:

 FRANK IERO'S GETTING MARRIED.

In February. Not cool. And yet.

So I'm PROSECUTOR in our Christmas play, in addition to being CANDY. I think I have five lines. That should be fun. Finally, my chance to bedazzle all with my spectacular acting skills.

I should be studying. It's freaking2:45 am, and I have an Eco test.

 

…if I had a cat, like I told everyone (who matters), I would name it Juxtapose.

 

If it wasn’t nebulous.

And sometimes, when I dream, it's of him, and this time, he sees me. He can see me, and him, and what happened. And he sees right through me. Knows who I really am.

He can speak and he does not accuse me. But he knows. And I realise then that he would've been much more. And my helplessness, which I used as a pathetic excuse, it doesn't exist - it's me. I've done this. I didn't look well enough. I knew, and I chose blissful oblivion.

And my dreams, they're always nightmares.

When You’re (Not) Around.

Hello, World.

But you're not there, and it's not me this time. Do I want it all back?

So I'm blogging again. Not that it makes A Difference. And still. So should I possibly procure an explanation? I would like to say that I had Writer's Block, which is what I told everyone, but I'd be lying. I was um…jaded? I couldn't write anything sensible during this time period anyway.

So that day, I finished reading The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. It's one of the really good books I've read in a long time. Possibly one of my favourites. And Nicole Krauss is really pretty. I would want to write a book like that, some day. I would also like to live in Germany, and speak German. And yet (!).

I lost my glasses again. It kind of sucks. I liked wearing them. It irritates me when I can't see properly. They were my second pair of grey frames. My mother isn't exactly thrilled, and I've lost my prescription.

And today was, not to go totally off a tangent here, but extremely embarrassing. We had a musical concert at our school. This group who call themselves Heartbeat came and um sang. And they brought a DJ along with them. And the student body of our all-girls convent school were ready to profess their undying love for them. It was BAD. They followed him around. They hooted. They asked for his autograph. They screamed. It was really bad. I dread the hour long lectures we're going to have to listen to tomorrow. Needless to say, if they heard me singing I fell In Love With The DJ, I highly doubt they will catch the sarcasm in it. I'll be screwed. And I hate that song.

I got a 6.5 in my 7mark question in History today. That was good.

Until next time -

So Did It?

Ah. I haven't blogged in a while. I almost lost my blog. Almost, but not quite.

So I sat for Paper 1 of My GCE Socio exam. It was BAD. Really bad. To think I needed an A in this subject.

Anyway, the day before I had the exam, I went to bed at like 5 a.m. I had to wake up at 7:30. But I don't know if I went to sleep. I mean, it was really freaky, inexplicable even. I think I went to sleep, but then I was awake before my alarm went off. It was surreal. I still don't know if I went to sleep. But then, I have no idea what I did for two and a half hours. It was like I was in limbo between slumber and consciousness. And then I just remember the alarm going off, and me thinking, 'oh, great. Socio exam'. And the whole day was a blur, until I was sitting for the exam. The day was just…sharp. The sounds, the voices, my heart burn, the panic. It was sharp.

Haha. Inexplicable, that's me.

Analyse Me, won't you?

So. Today in school, we were told that we'd be visiting an old lady who is going to act as a psychologist.

The old lady is a NUN. A freaking NUN.

It might just be me,  maybe I'm just more emotionally withdrawn, maybe I just have WALLS. But DUDE. She's a freaking nun for a reason. Now, don't get me wrong, I originate somewhere in the same roots, I was left there anyway, but I do believe in the idea of telling a total stranger your Stuff. Um my belief may be slightly deviant: I believe in losing yourself, talking to people you're not ever going to meet again. And you can only lose yourself if you're drunk. So yes. I'm going off a tangent here, but this reminds me of a song:

You're a stranger
So what do I care
You vanish today
Not the first time I hear
                                    - "A Stranger", A Perfect Circle

Okay. So, coming back to The Point. So what the hell am I supposed to do? I suppose I'll just make up stuff, if I'm driven by desperation, that is. But the thing is, we were 'advised' to be 'completely honest'. Maybe I'll tell her how I'm getting a bit obssessive about certain things. Maybe I'll say nothing. Maybe it'll be really awkward. It WILL be really awkward. That Lady always reminds me of a crow. I do not like crows. Nope, not me. Maybe I'll tell her nothing. Maybe I'll say that life really sucks. Maybe I'll say nothing. Maybe, maybe I'll tell her that my Economics teacher picks on me. Maybe I'll say nothing. Maybe I'll say I'm shit-scared. Maybe I'll say nothing. Maybe I'll tell her I have no idea what's going on. Maybe I'll tell her I'm lost. Maybe I'll say nothing...

uh huh. No please.

... but she's a Nun...

She can't know.

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before.

Today was my sixteenth birthday. Sweet Sixteen. It wasn't really sweet to tell you the truth. It kinda sucked. What is it with birthdays and how they make you depressed? For me, it's an excellent chance to sit and contemplate my life. Believe me, it brings you down. I got picked in class by my literature teacher, that coupled with the fact that we'll have three tests on Friday doesn't exactly make me insane with joy. All in all, not my best birthday memories.But come on, world/God, it's my sixteenth birthday. Does that not mean anything?

Ah. Must stop acting emo.

So everyone I don't know in this different world, check this out. You know, it'll just be my OWN friends who'll comment so what the heck. Must also stop acting pessimistic. Dude, I can't help myself. I am, after all, sixteen:

What is with trying to lose yourself that never works out?

Anyway:



Ambiguous|Ambience


It was at that moment. The moment, I knew, just knew that I could not help her. That I never would be able to. I had tried, oh yes, to save her, for she is my life. But then maybe I fell from grace, or it might have been her. But just as second nature, like you give up on life, I did her. I gave up on her.

Every step I took after that one moment has haunted me, crushed me, killed me. I wish, with all my heart, with the intensity of that one time, that I had just turned around, or stopped, or waited; yet I am glad I did not. I counted every step I took and I think, so did she.

I did, you know, stop for a while. That while has cost me more than I ever fathomed it would. To me, it was someone I left behind, someone quite unlike me, but me. It cost me myself. Back there in the darkness, in the pregnant hiatus, when I stopped to catch myself, I lost me.

But try as I might, I cannot lose her. The way her face tilted upwards, the peal of laughter fluttering from within her, like a butterfly. Or maybe a swarthy moth. The way the sun’s rays fell upon her, so she remained perpetually illuminated… The way her lips curled into a half-smile and how she looked right up at me, how we connected, nose to nose, brow to brow, formed our own world. But we were just refined parasites, and the world was either too kind, or too callous. It was crude but intricate, still spinning, still pulling us in.

Like a grotesque folklore, but most unlike it, because of me.

Because I managed to do what all those princes and Romeos had not.

I gave her up. I walked away, I broke everything. Maybe I did lose her.

I said goodbye instead.


______


So yes people. Check it out.

Hope you don't know me,

pluto88.

I wish I could go live in Berlin.

Berlin. Yep, that'd really be truly breaking free. Not to mention that it would probably be more eventful than the way your summer's going. Berlin... it would mean breaking the monotony, the ever-lasting precedent.

Berlin. I wish I was living in the World War I and II era than now. I really do.