tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29818242213780656832024-02-08T13:42:37.140+08:00Whispers.not scream, not talk, just whispers.hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.comBlogger244125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-54998545152573753162014-06-04T22:20:00.003+08:002014-06-04T22:20:53.502+08:00Hanya Sementara<div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">
Kebahagiaan yang terasa kejapnya,</div>
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Selalunya yang berharga buat kita.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Senyum dan tawa insan yang kita cinta, </div>
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Dapat ubat hati yang berduka lara.</div>
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Jangan sesekali kau berkira,</div>
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Kerna Dia boleh tarik bahagia sekelip mata.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Panjatkan syukur dengan apa kau ada,</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sebab belum tentu hari esok kau tersenyum gembira. </span></div>
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TROTs</div>
hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-19833457569054704372014-06-02T12:30:00.003+08:002014-06-02T12:30:39.977+08:00Harmful Dreaming<div style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes all I need,</div>
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Is a warm, comforting hug.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes all I need, </div>
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Are sincere, comforting words.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes all I need,</div>
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Is assurance that it will all be okay.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But sometimes what I need,</div>
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Is what makes me bleed. </div>
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TROTs</div>
hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-5365966879763348642014-03-08T00:36:00.000+08:002014-03-08T00:36:10.045+08:00PlatefulHi.<br />
<br />
I know that it has been a while since I've written anything in this lame blog. But today, tonight, I just feel like I need to vent. So please just bear with me.<br />
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I'm going to categorise my vents into three parts. I'll start off with WORK, because it's a total bitch right now.<br />
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I've been working for this media/entertainment company for almost 9 months now, and I must say that I enjoy the job. I get to practice my Bahasa (well basically that's the only perk), oh and I get to claim my overtimes.<br />
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Let me give you the gist of my working environment. I am nestled in between old, gossipy ladies. And I shit you not, they know how to gossip. I'm a social media executive, therefore I administer the movements of the multiple platforms that we have (think 5). It doesn't end there, the company that I work for, is THE BIGGEST name in the industry. Thus, hundreds of shows per week. And yes, I've to find material for all of it, post it up on the platforms and monitor the feedback.<br />
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Did I mention that I'm doing all of that ALONE? Oh yeah, I've to do some translation every week. Well you know, just because my job isn't challenging enough (cue sobbing and whimpers here). To add to the whole truckload of crap that I'm dealing with, I've a boss who texts me when she pleases, calls me whenever she doesn't see me in front of her and invades my life wherever she see fits. I've a teammate that takes credit for what I do, and is a certified ass kisser. Sounds about fantastic right? Wanna know something more? My boss can't see that I'm drowning with my workload and she blatantly says that I'm not stressed. Come on, replying "K" to her messages is not clear enough? Geez. Okay, I guess that's about my work life.<br />
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The second thing that I wanted to vent about is EDUCATION. Here's another thing you should know, I'm currently pursuing my Masters Degree, FULL TIME. Yes, while working. And yes, I'm crazy.<br />
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Though I'm in my second semester, my studies have been going steady (no, I'm kidding, I'm actually dying). I have classes at night and weekends. Imagine when I have to juggle work and studies at the same time. Oh, my social media gig requires me to post items REAL TIME (yes, even when I'm driving, and YES, even when I'm shitting). What's a girl to do for a better life, huh? But my first semester grades were awesome. I managed to score 3.44, which stumped me because I was tired, busy and lazy the whole semester. Can you imagine what I would get if I concentrated more on my studies rather than work? Blergh, I hate this. But, having said that, I can't do anything about it since I have about a year and a half to finish this thing.<br />
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Ooookay, now moving to the mushy part of my life, LOVE. Besides work and studies, I'm committed to a relationship now. I don't know why I bother, purely because I can't even find time to go on dates or even text. He must be crazy enough to love me.<br />
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Things are not going so well with us. We've been talking about marriage, but we're getting nowhere with it. I am honestly nonchalant about his working his ass off, because at the end of the day, I know where I stand in his life. Though I'm the busy one, but I try to make time, I try to put in the effort of planning dates, anniversary celebrations and even dinner/supper plans.<br />
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But after having to put in effort more than what you get in return, it tires you. It wears you out. I can't say that I'm giving up, but I'm close enough. Right now, for me, I just wanna get on to the next phase of life, better job, graduate, and travel. How I desperately need to travel.<br />
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I miss him everyday, but saying it daily won't make a difference. I know, I've been through it for more a few years now. I'm used to it I guess, but sometimes I just break down for no particular reason but missing him. I don't see him doing anything about it and it hurts me, deeply.<br />
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I'm pushing 26. I have a job, in the process of purchasing my own car, moving out soon, and studying. Do you think I have too much on my plate?<br />
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Sometimes I just wish I can crawl into a hole and cry.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Because no one is built with an armour,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Its not what you speak, but what you murmur. </span></div>
hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-2318839057583151202012-09-11T15:41:00.002+08:002012-09-11T15:41:30.198+08:00That's just it.<div style="text-align: left;">
When you know you love someone you know you will never have.</div>
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That's heartbreaking.</div>
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When you're the only one trying to work things out in a relationship.</div>
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That's depressing.</div>
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When you think you know someone, but in the end, you really don't.</div>
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That's disappointing.</div>
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When you think you're finally okay, and all of a sudden, you cry.</div>
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That's frustrating.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">When you realize that all of this happened to you in a day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">That just changes everything.</span></div>
hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-77343287351405805572012-07-31T14:45:00.000+08:002012-07-31T14:45:24.928+08:00...Holding hands while you drive. To feel your arms around me, your hot breath on my neck, and your fingertips grazing my skin. I miss you.<br />
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Watching a movie while lying my head on your shoulders. Eating McDs while watching a movie. Letting me lie down on your lap when I'm tired. I miss you.<br />
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Getting your call after office hours only to hear you shout "alooo. behhh." Being disrupted by your spontaneous farts and burps. And constantly listening to you complaining about the youth nowadays. I miss you.<br />
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I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.<br />
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*continues ignoring the obvious*hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-13664384183843466022012-07-30T11:28:00.001+08:002012-07-30T11:28:21.800+08:00Agape.Its apparent that I can't do anything but hope at this point of time.<br />
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I can't tell you how much I miss you. I can't tell you why I'm still here.<br />
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But just know that I am. Here. With you.<br />
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And I miss you so.<br />
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I certainly hope you feel the same way.<br />
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I long for the feel of your fingertips on my skin, your lips on my forehead, your fingers going through my hair, and your spontaneous farts.<br />
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There's just something about you that makes it hard for me to let you go.<br />
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So I won't, for now.<br />
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See you soon, then.hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-39713587842881433752012-07-10T18:59:00.002+08:002012-07-10T18:59:48.540+08:00Brevity.I've been quiet for a while now. I guess things have been hectic with work and my personal life. I'm trying so hard to brave this storm. Where all the obstacles that I've been through and going through is high in pressure. Can't complain much though. There are more unfortunate people. I'm glad I got through this far. But the only question I have now is why am I still feeling like I'm lost and like something in my life is incomplete? Well, I guess I'l just wear my questions and leave it on for the time being. Okay I'm boring you. Toodles.hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-748667621408916262012-04-10T17:32:00.002+08:002012-04-10T17:41:15.941+08:00Binoculars.<div style="text-align: center;">Its destructive when the only time you can let out the kept anger, frustrations, and sadness is by reading a book or watching a movie with a plot of loss.<br /><br />Its been a while since I've written anything significant about my life. About the stuff that really matters. Because ever since I've started full time work, I found myself missing something.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Something is always not right.</span><br /><br />I don't feel sad, I don't feel happy, I just <span style="font-style: italic;">live</span>.<br /><br />Everybody says to get through life, you've got to suck it up and move on. I've taught myself that ever since I was in my teens. That made me who I am today. I consider myself reasonably calm and collected.<br /><br />I only cry when no one is around, when I read, when I watch a movie. It gets depressing, when all I cry about is loss. Maybe there's something missing.<br /><br />Maybe there's a loss that I don't know of.<br /><br />If there isn't any, why else would I be so sensitive over the emotions and the plot?<br /><br />Maybe I'm lost, <span style="font-style: italic;">still</span>.<br /><br />And maybe deep down inside I feel that all the good things in this world are at loss too.<br /><br />I need to restore my faith in life. I need to, before it gets worse.<br /><br />I need to feel genuinely happy. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I desperately want to</span>.<br /><br />I need to feel the excruciating pain that's supposed to hurt me. I have to feel it.<br /><br />But, sadly, all I feel is .... <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Emptiness</span>.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-50043542257813626782012-02-06T21:57:00.003+08:002012-02-06T21:59:03.477+08:00End of story.<div style="text-align: center;">That's it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have left enough bad impressions. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't think I am fit to be a girlfriend.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">No, I'm not being emotional, just realistic.</div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-7388649773321978822012-01-17T11:04:00.002+08:002012-01-17T11:16:49.358+08:00AbraCadabra, Vanish!<div style="text-align: center;">I had this realisation last night. Where I was talking to a guy I am dating, and I found myself talking honestly and very bluntly. And all he did was kept quiet, I had a sudden thought of; maybe all my past relationships didn't work because I have no filter to what I say.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">All these time I thought I've been dating jerks, but in reality, it could be me. The cause of all failures could be me - the girl who doesn't know how to filter her thoughts and watch what she says.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am sorry, for all the wrongs I've done, and all the things I've said.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I truly am. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is exactly why I want to disappear a long time ago. </div><div style="text-align: center;">This is exactly why I don't think I'm going to end up happy.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is exactly why I'd rather keep my thoughts and emotions to myself.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've got to learn how to let things go along its own course.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've got to shut up.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe I've got to just ....... vanish.</div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-40259888531631627932012-01-10T16:27:00.001+08:002012-01-10T16:34:30.289+08:00A Girl You Should Date, by Rosemarie Urquico.<p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><strong>Something of the total opposite of what I shared earlier. I am so glad somebody did a reply :)</strong> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Buy her another cup of coffee.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >She has to give it a shot somehow.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><span> You will smile so hard you will wonder</span> why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span ><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span >Or better yet, date a girl who writes.</span></p>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-5541042666267784572012-01-06T15:25:00.001+08:002012-01-06T15:26:46.589+08:00I am chubbeh<div style="text-align: center;">I really don't think being fat is a bad thing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Therefore, I don't mind being fat and being friends with people who are on the chubby side. But it annoys me when people who are thin says that they're fat. It just gets on my nerves. (Kishi, this is for you, you're not fat so shut up)</div></div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-76207856716149446082012-01-04T15:22:00.002+08:002012-01-04T15:28:09.746+08:00Bullshit, this is.I hate it when people tell me that it's weird that I'm dating somebody. <div><br /></div><div>Why? </div><div><br /></div><div>Am I too fucked up to date now? </div><div>Is it wrong for me to go out with a guy that I actually like talking to, even though you know who that guy is? </div><div>Do I have to go out with guys that does not cross paths with my circle of friends and family?<div><br /></div><div>Fuck this shit. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I have done so many things for so many people, but in the end, it's about their happiness, not mine. "I want my happiness, too." Don't you think that's exactly what I'm looking for?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I know, I said I didn't want a committed relationship just yet, but is it wrong for me to go out and enjoy a person's company? What more a person that I can talk to, intellectually, stupidly, jokingly? </div><div><br /></div><div>A person who knows how to make me laugh, pissed and touched at the same time?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Fuck other people and their feelings/opinions/thoughts about me dating. </div><div>I live for myself, not for anybody else.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Fuck you and "you're complicated/confused" bullshit.</div><div>I know how to live my life just as much as you do.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-3079191796125988132011-12-27T13:27:00.002+08:002011-12-27T13:30:55.297+08:00Mengapa.<div style="text-align: center;">Dikala hati berduka lara, air mata menjadi senjata. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dikala hati bersuka ria, mengapa tidak kedengaran gelak dan tawa? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Masihkah hati terasa duka?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Seringkali terjadi, apa yg terbuku di hati. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Disimpan sampai mati. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Lumrah manusia egois, bukan?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Luluh jiwa, runtuh harapan.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Apakah sukar untuk berikan peluang pada perasaan?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Egois. Bodoh.</div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-51985891190528506992011-12-19T17:29:00.000+08:002011-12-19T17:30:50.856+08:00Nutcase.At first I thought that everything will go well, everything will run oh so smoothly. But, I guess I expected too much out of life.<br /><br />I don’t know what I did – until people can walk in and out of my life, trampling over my soul, my kindness and repaying me with hopeful promises and hurtful actions. I don’t think anybody deserve that kind of treatment.hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-26746014685420501222011-12-08T12:48:00.002+08:002011-12-08T14:43:45.851+08:00So yeah.<div style="text-align: justify;">Emotional whirlwind, psychological tornadoes, and physical extremes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Basically its a summary of what I've been through these past couple of months.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was in a relationship, I broke it off, I'm single, again in a relationship, again it didn't work out. My brain is on overdrive since I can't stop thinking about work, and my body? I've been pushing it too far with all the work that I've to deal with.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes I wonder, what is it in life that we work so hard to achieve? Success? Contentment? Happiness? I get lost in finding my own goal in life. I don't see ahead anymore, I just move forward. You know, like one of those programmed autobots that's designed to go straight and just that? Yeah, I'm currently like that.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I feel like I need to write more, read more. But because of my job, my brain goes dead. I write for money now, not passion. I hate that fact. I love words, I love literature of any kind, but why did I stop doing all that. Look at what I've become. Weighted shoulders, dragging feet, like the whole world's responsibilities is for me to bear, for me to meet. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I can't stop whining now. I mean, in my blog. In real life I'm soulless. Really, I am. I find entertainment on the net, and the solitude of being with friends. That's it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Maybe I'm at a point in life where everything is monotonous. Boring. Bland.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Guess I just have to get off my ass and do something about it, huh?</div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-56350148311016666652011-10-11T15:33:00.001+08:002011-10-11T15:35:29.225+08:00UhmI realised that this space needs more pictures. <div><br /></div><div>I need to take more photos.</div><div>And I need new experiences.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I just want to live my life.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe I should move to a whole new page.</div><div>Start fresh.</div><div><br /></div><div>WordPress anyone?</div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-83679464696433465822011-10-09T20:25:00.001+08:002011-10-09T20:28:31.837+08:00Please.<div style="text-align: center;">Please, just please. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Leave me alone and don't waste my time. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm hurt enough.</div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-81182048573804571792011-10-04T17:37:00.001+08:002011-10-04T17:40:27.388+08:00Hey.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; white-space: pre-line; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >"that is why i ckp blah je. nobody is good by genetic its always by experience, confidence and smartness."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; white-space: pre-line; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; white-space: pre-line; ">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 27px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">just leave if ur not happy u have much potential dont waste it."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 27px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 27px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 27px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Thank you.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 27px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">From the bottom of my heart, thank you.</span></span></div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-15545142636417694282011-10-04T10:48:00.003+08:002011-10-04T11:03:49.833+08:00Motherfuckin' Monster<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>You drink down the bottles,</i></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>Of indifference to stress.</i></span></div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We all need our escape, to get our mind off this reality we call life. But however hard we try, we can't seem to. We get going, we drink, we smoke, we dream, we sleep, we cry, we play, we give up. Nothing seems to be working. We just stay in it. This reality, this universe. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have no clue why lately I've been doing everything wrong. At least I feel like its wrong. From my point of view, from others, I have no clue. I really don't want to know anyway. I feel like leaving this place and move to another. I can't help but to feel invisible and a pushover.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">All the breakdowns I've had just made me feel I can do better, I can become something better. I'm sorry, if you broke me, that just made my ego bigger, stronger, more resilient. I am not someone you would want to push around. I am not someone you would want to mess around with. I am not someone you would want to disappoint. I am not someone you can see as fragile. I have my moments, and if so happens that I burst, you better watch your back.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'll be as cold as ice, I'll be as mean as a bully. I'll be as destructive as TNT. Don't push your luck, I'm tolerant when I want to be, right up until my limits, and I'm done with you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fuck it, I'm here to live my life. I don't care if suddenly I start behaving like a bitch, you saw it coming. Don't tell me I didn't warn you.</div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-15324056998276591092011-09-23T09:55:00.004+08:002011-09-23T09:58:56.907+08:00Memory Lane, Again.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">This was what went through my head last night. I just had the urge to write it all down before I forgot about it. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Mr Good Looking, you meant a lot to me, once upon a time. Well, you still mean a lot. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">You were sarcastic, caring, strict, loving, cuddly, good looking and egoistic. I have no idea why we didn’t work out. Probably it was for the best. I miss you sometimes. When I think about the times you would come over to my place all the way from Sepang. Just to share a couple of smokes with me. You would drive all the way to take me out for dinner eventhough you weren’t feeling well just to make sure I ate. You would drop by my office during lunch, just cause I asked you to. You held my hand and kissed it when you drive. Everytime you drove. You missed that once, and you texted me with a sad face, telling me that you didn’t get to kiss my hands. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">How can I not fall for you? Tell me. You surprised me with a book from my favourite author! When I went to the loo and came back, there it was, the little blue book and ice cream. You picked me up from work once eventhough you were in KL and I was in Kepong. Quite far of a trip considering the traffic. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">We exchanged I love yous. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">But I guess something changed your mind. Something in your heart triggered, something in mine too. We parted, but the memories are seared on to my brain, my heart. I won’t forget the nights we spent watching movies, cuddling, having McD takeouts. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><b>I won’t forget you. Not ever.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-45146044416647754342011-09-22T16:19:00.003+08:002011-09-22T16:30:14.057+08:00Honest to boot<div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes I don't know why I bother writing. Some people may find it offensive, and I just come off as an emotional bitch. But hey, I'm only human. I do everything everybody does. I curse, I cry, I get hurt, I give up, I try. Life goes on, whatever I write is basically what goes through my mind. I don't really let out my emotions - really deep emotions, whenever I write. But fuck it, I can write whatever fuck I want. Its just a way for me to express. I'm just being me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So here goes, after my "Walking Down Memory Lane" post. I had an inkling that Mr Goodlooking read it. And if my guess is right, he tweeted about him being scolded through a blog. Well, any sane people would see that I was just reminiscing whatever that is left of me and him. I don't hold grudges, at least I don't show it. I'd rather keep it to myself. Why would I expose the fragile part of myself and make myself look vulnerable? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, he has his freedom of speech, I have mine. I don't want to judge, but I guess he took my post too seriously and read it in a negative connotation, I wouldn't know.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm in love with words. I really am, but whenever there's a negative feedback on my writing, I tend to take into account and try and improve. There's no way in hell anybody can make me change the way I write. I've grown to realise the best way to be happy about yourself is when you stop thinking about others. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My oh my, look how am I now.</div><div style="text-align: center;">All grown up. *pukes*</div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-22148268650497399652011-09-21T13:57:00.001+08:002011-09-21T14:40:14.558+08:00NEXT!<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Singapore - next career move?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sounds tempting.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >"Oh, hello. I'm a copywriter based in Singapore"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Says my imagination to my curiosity.</span></div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-39001782006743304142011-09-15T10:54:00.002+08:002011-09-15T12:20:37.054+08:00Walking down memory lane.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Hello there. Today I would like to let out everything that Mr. Goodlooking and I did. I think it's good that I finally want to talk about it, and let it out. I know that after this post, I won't dwell in the past anymore, because tonight is going to change everything. ;)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I didn't how we could connect and go out and have supper and his ciggie breaks. It started off with just BBMing, and it didn't stop. We would continue until late, and sleep, waking up to a new BBM message waiting to be read. It went on for a couple of weeks, until he finally asked me out, for a casual hang out. I didn't immediately say yes, because apart from BBMs and Twitter conversations, we never really spoke to each other in real life. So yeah, one day I decided to go for supper with him. He was charming enough to pick me up, but a total pain in the ass when he started teasing me during supper. I didn't mind though, it eases the awkwardness. That night when we hung out for supper, was the first time we spoke to each other, on the phone and face to face. I still remember it, still fresh, the memories.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Then all the stories came out, he asked me about his ex, I told him about mine. We shared opinions on a lot of things. We debated, we agreed, we bickered, we talked. True enough this "thing" we had, ended all too soon. But, I had foreseen it coming, so I took the matter very calmly. I freaked for a bit, then I started to miss him, but I didn't look back. Except for this one time, I was stupid or dumb, I don't know, I texted him saying that I missed him. Oh my, stupid I was. But I was glad I said it out loud. At least I know I'm not the egoistic one.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Mr Goodlooking and I lasted less than half a year, a few months, mind you, but it was one of the most emotional non-relationships I've ever had. EVER. It meant a lot to me. Still means a lot. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Anyhoo, things ended quite surprisingly fast. There's these few weeks I've been busy at work and at home, and whenever he calls me, I never seem to be available. And he made a big deal out of that, he told me I was coming up with excuses and such. And at that time, I was agitated. I didn't even want to go on. So I said, okay, I'm leaving, whatever you want. And that was it for me. I don't mind being friends with him, but anything more than that, I can't see it happen.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >His text said that "I deserve someone better" and in deep honesty, I really think I do. Because whatever I did for him, seem to never be enough. I had no idea how to make him happy. We cuddled, watched a movie, and stuff like that, but I can never make him happy fully. I don't think its fair too, is what I told him. I knew it won't work, I elaborated more. And he said, "whatever we are, its not fair". Yeah, I know, stupid I was. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >He once said he wants me to be his "girl". Whatever fuck that meant. I was touched, and honoured, but whenever I screwed something up unintentionally, he would go mental, I try to do whatever to please him, until I really couldn't take it, I decided. Once and for all.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I still remember asking him when we were simply watching TV;</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Me: "You sayang I tak?" (Do you love me?)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Him: "Sayang la, why?" (I do, why?)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Me: "Good, because I'm gonna break your heart" *without looking at his face*</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Him: *turns to face me* "huh? apa you cakap ni?" (huh? what are you talking about?)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Me: "I'm kidding la baby" *Smiles and kissed his forehead*</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Him: "Mengarut je" (You're talking crap now) *calms down*</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >In the end, I think he broke mine (my heart), but moving on, I am relieved to break free somehow. I'm being honest to boot, really. It ended, whatever "it" was. And I'm okay with it. :)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Writing this down made me feel better, a whole lot better. But to share all the memories I shared with him, will be painful, so I just shared whatever I think is necessary. Goodbye Mr. Goodlooking, I wish you the best in life and I pray that you will find somebody that can make you truly happy. If you are getting married someday, don't hesitate to invite me. LOL</span></div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2981824221378065683.post-37888318805147818112011-09-14T15:45:00.003+08:002011-09-14T15:48:29.231+08:00Tomorrow.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>Is what we all look forward to. </b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I'm on facebook and twitter detox. Its been a week, couldn't be happier about it.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I need sleep. I need rest. I need love. I need hugs. I need cuddles.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I'm not the same Hannah you used to know, no I'm not.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Trust me on this.</span></div>hnnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191630675579159978noreply@blogger.com0