Measurements.

It hurts. Well, sort of.

Maybe something like a 100 times of the silly doggy bite I got when I was eleven. Say, 50 times of the all the times that Bryan said "you remind me of her" combined. And maybe about 10 times of receiving Carmina's classic "what have you done."

Long story short - owww.

It could be hope.

When its leaves turn brown.

It's a sign that it might die, anytime soon. Either that or that it's clinging on to whatever it has just to try to keep surviving. It could be due to too much sun, and drying, or that it didn't get the food and water it required. Or maybe the coke you poured in yesterday wasn't too good for its growth. Either way, it's a sign.

A sign that it's losing something important. That something in it has already died.

This ain't fair.

They may not be excuses, but they aren't whole truths.

I felt cheated then. Because I thought I knew everything and I didn't. I felt cheated again. Because I thought I'd be shown the truth, but never. I feel cheated. Because I want the truth but you're just giving me reasons that aren't really true. I wanna know what's really up.

My heart's pounding though I've stopped skipping for 10 minutes. I'll snap.

You know what, dear?

They asked if I regretted everything.

I shook my head and smiled, a fuzzy feeling growing within me and I beamed and told them no. My reason? If I hadn't had gone through that, I probably wouldn't have taken the same path, wouldn't have met the same people cause I believe everything has its own seperate route. Even though it hurt me so, I had one major reason why I didn't regret.

Because I met you. But thanks for making me regret anyway.

15 hours.

I've been awake for the past 15 hours.

Half of which was spent studying which - come to think of it - isn't quite enough if I wanna do well. Damn, I was actually quite satisfied. That aside, today's quite my first time staying up through the night and into the morning without sleep, studying. It's so satisfactory and enjoyable.

Though it could be a once-off thrill.

Doodle disappear.

I was playing Doodle Find.

Was watching the doodles disappear as I tapped on them, and having other doodles pop back onto the screen to replace them. All colorful and nice. And thought, if only I could tap on these thoughts and have them disappear like that. Although it would be even better if they didn't ever have to sprout back.

I understand you're tired from work. But you're just never there, and it's a fact.

Fourteen?

Something I wrote when I was fourteen, so excuse the strange language:

Mission Accomplished

She never meant anything more than a figure that kept clothes on my back and food on the table. If anything, the only emotions I felt for her were those of hatred and disgust. So very often, those emotions brought out a different side of me, and together with that, disgusting thoughts that dance about, seductively, in my mind. Just as often, I never managed to push them away. I would allow them to go on dancing, although sometimes, I chose to dance along with them.

I often wished that Daddy had taken me away together with him. Instead, I was left with her, her to bring me up, teaching me, at the same time, to survive without love. The only bit of love in her was showered upon her shaggy terrier which was always cuddled in her arms. Her terrier that received praises that I may never live to hear. Still, I felt ever so obliged to address her with that one word that got my insides churning, and made me feel so ill – Mum.

I sat on the sofa, knees to my chin, with a book in hand, feigning fascination for the pages of dull words before me. I sat, observing the way she scurried around the house, piling velvet cushions beside one another, beloved creature in hand. I observed how she gently placed the disgusting squirming animal onto the pile of cushions, whispering words into its misshapen ears, a smile I rarely received, plastered across her face.

She took careful, tiny steps up onto the second landing of our house. Each step with such utmost cautiousness that made her looked on the verge of falling over. Soon, I heard the pipes shriek and water began to run, as I returned to the book that was opened on my lap.

Before I proceeded any further with my reading, I heard an annoying little tatter of paws against the parquet. I looked down to see the shaggy little brown creature, tennis ball in mouth, looking up at me pleadingly. Its plea for attention made me sick; it could barely live without attention, even just for a second.

Ignoring the fur ball that lingered at my heels, I lay back on the sofa, shut my eyes and listened to the sound of fast, speeding traffic on the main road, right outside my main door. Perfect.

I reached down and tugged the tennis ball out of the creature’s mouth, watching it race between my legs, as I opened the main door wide open. I observed the cars pass. I felt the caress of the thoughts in my mind, and I tried to resist them, but they were much too tempting for me. They asked me to dance, I joined in.

Just then, the taps from above squeaked shut and I heard the soft footsteps near the staircase. At this moment, I swung my arm back and threw the tennis ball, grinning as it bounced off the pavement, onto the main road. I was almost laughing now, as the mindless creature hopped out the door and onto the busy road.

Without shutting the door, I got back to the sofa and sat down, waiting for her to tiptoe back down the steps.

When she did, her eyes immediately darted across the room, towards the empty pile of cushions, and then to the open door. I watched her face turn ash pale as she gazed onto the blood-stained road, in which the body of her little terrier lay, barely in one piece.

Her scream echoed throughout the house, and rang in my ears. Something about it felt so sweet, so relaxing, and so very comforting. I lay back on the sofa and closed my eyes, treasuring the moment of it all. Damn, did it felt so right. Perfect – mission accomplished.


Damn, was I weird.

Emptiness.

The counter ticks, and yet each number seems to mean nothing.

I've been refreshing my inboxes, waiting to see your name, an email, or at least a sign that you care. It's been eleven days and still nothing. But, why am I surprised? You've always kept me waiting. You've always called the shots. Haven't you, Bryan? I'm perspiring, and yet everything is cold on the inside.

If I were shivering, would I feel warm within?

Glad to be sure of.

When life gets me really confused and all.

I like to think about things that will always remain certain. I mean it ain't easy to put aside the more depressing issues but it's good to always know I can fall back on three things for certain - my incredible lover, my best friend and my insane sisters.

And that just dissolves all the bad immediately. Goodnight.

Don't come talking about old times.

Especially if you couldn't care less.

Don't come telling me you were thinking back about then, and get all sentimental on me when you don't mean a thing. And, as for you, don't come around telling me I'm just like her and think it's all fine and dandy when it sure isn't. So, just keep your lies to yourselves, and do me a great big favour.

This ain't fair. And you know that, Bryan. And you too, bloody Chindian.