A slice of silence.

An unfailing ability to fall in love with all the assholes. Who is nothing without music, dance, words, a voice, and the ability to be swallowed in a crowd and never be found.

Justin Nozuka

Justin Nozuka
A man who never fails to make me study, help me sleep, and completely and utterly make my day. <3

Saturday, July 31, 2010


Her eyes are wild, her fingers searching for the couple of crumpled fivers in her jeans pocket. She digs out her money and slams it on the counter top, pointing at the pack of ciggs she's been dying to get. the Asian man behind the counter slides it across the surface. Her fingers curl around the plastic and rips it apart. She knew what she looked like on the outside. Untidy hair, mismatched clothing, tearing at the cigaratte packet, a hunched figure leaning over the counter. She cups her fingers over the lighter and brings a single stick to her dry, parched lips. She inhales and that blinding darkness lifts itself of her eyes. She blinks as her vision swarms, the sudden burst of fuzzy blue lights hurting slightly. As it clears, she stumbles outside, vaguely remembering the lazy fan that was spinning over her head, and the quiet murmmurs of onlookers.

She takes another long drag, letting the minty taste slide down her throat, seeping into her bloodstream. Every step she took seemed a little stronger than the last. She rubs the cold away from her fingers and hugs her overcoat closer around herself, unable to keep the blustery wind the winter brings, away.

Another deep breath. Not again, never this close ever again, she thought. What wouldve happened to her if she didn't get to the drugstore in time, she didn't know. She didn't want to know either. Though she seem to be able to hold herself together with the cigg between her fingers, burning away her worries, her life was falling apart.

She huddles close to a wall, brushing the snow off with her bristly overcoat. She watches people pass, hand in hand with siblings, children, families, lovers.

Her vision begins to blur again, and salty silver rivulets ran down her cheeks, marks of how lonely she is, streams of scars over her cheeks.

The sunlight is bleeched out by a person, a man, by the scent of him, cologne, not the cheap ones either. His arms wrap around her limp body like wings, wings of an angel. The cold seeped away from her blood stream. And tired, too tired to think about what is going on, she wilts and melts into his arms, two strangers with the urge to embrace like lovers.

He breaks away first, prying the cigaratte away from her lips. She looks up at him, and notices how stunningly good looking he was. His hair was golden to the point of being surreal, his eyes unnaturally dark in comparison with his ivory flavoured skin. He pushes back her hair behind her ears and flicks the ciggaratte to the side, grinding it with the underside of his shoe.

'Don't waste away.'

He smiles shyly at her before walking off, leaving her to battle his intentions in her head alone. She watches his sillouhette fade away into the distance, before returning his smile, shaking her head at the glimpse of life's few miracles, few angels.

She shoves her hands deep into her pockets, and pulls out the pack, dropping it into the next bin she passed.

Best day since ever :)

I hardly get to say I spend an actual amount of time doing something I love other than dancing, singing with the band, sketching while listening to music, or prancing around the house in my shorts. But, today, I truly truly realize that I just had one of my best days in the longest time.

Woke up late, rushed to the apartment, wowed at it for about 5 minutes cause it was HUGE. Went to eat at a mamak downstairs, just missed 8 tickets from the J's dad's friend to go to World Stage SOB, Jon went off to make his retainers.

Went back up and changed into the swim stuff, swam for the longest time, and took a whole lot of pictures. Jon joined us a little later, and we got out. Took a shower, then Shaun and Ryan went back home boohoo. Lucas and the twins went to take away Wendy's, while Jas Jon and I took a whole lot of pictures with the camera.

Ate, went upstairs and took a nap because we all felt like it. Woke up, the lift was jammed so we took another extra half an hour :) hee. We were on the 25th floor lol.

I love you guys.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

You hold me without touch, keep me without chains.

This is something I've written, stone cold in the night. I don't think I'd ever be able to do this for a very long time. It's something I've once felt, and I don't want to go through that agony again.


I've memorized the creases in your eyes when you smile, the way you put your hands in your pocket when you're shy. I've noticed the infinitesimally tiny mole on your right cheek just beneath your gray eyes. You love jazz but you'd listen to pop songs to prevent everyone from feeling uncomfortable. You hate going to clubs, and would rather sit at home with an open book in your lap and your cat curled up upon the couch.

You've told me countless of things, things like singing musical songs to yourself in the park when you are alone, dancing under the sunlight from the lamp posts. From the days where you dress up in a suit and the most expensive of slacks to stroll around the park, to the times you've spent hunched over the desk for days, trying to discover who you really are, and your purpose for subsisting in a world unkind as this.

You've once told me that I was the only person to ever see you cry, for emotions are a restraint you've limit yourself to. I was the only one there to talk to you on your bad days, and held you together when everything else was falling apart. And though I did not let it show, in me I swelled with pride.

And now here I am, standing in front of you, looking at you. You smirk at me, that crooked grin only meant for my eyes. I help you pick out a tie, the red one, because it goes with your dark velvet eyes. I wrap it around your neck and tie it up, sliding my fingers across your chest, smoothening out your hair. You hold my cold fingers and blow into them, before drawing the strings of your dress shoes, and standing up.

I tell you that you look charming, and you said I wouldn't be able to look more effervescent than I do today, though I knew I looked like a mess. You've never failed to make me blush, have you?

And then you kiss me, first starting from the crown of my hair, and I close my eyes in sheer ecstacy. Then, you move to where my hairline meets the scalp, slowly sliding across to my forehead, then gently down to my nose. My arms hang limp at my sides, feeling your fingers brush my temples, tilting my head ever so slightly to yours. My heart races, beats, thumps ravagely in my chest as my skin writhes in discomfort, anticipating a brush of your lips against mine.



I thought the more I knew about you, gradually the more you would learn to love me too. But again and again, I am beaten down by my own insolence. You turn around to leave, but first blowing a kiss my way. My soul stretches, aches and yearns for the physical touch of our skin but I only laugh and wink to hide my shame.

You walk. Out of the room, out of the door, out of reach, and into her arms. I hear her laugh and thank you for the roses. Pink I said, always a girl's favourite. Well. At least mine.

I lie back across your bed and hug your clothes to my bare skin, breathing you in, breathing you out. I flip over to my side, and I wonder, my darling, how long would it take for you to realize that I have been in love with you so.

Did I drive you away.

Not the best. Sketching was supposed to make everything go away.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Your thoughts are hanging on the walls of my heart.

I wish I could go off soul searching.

I'm listening to The Script and Coldplay a lot lately. I feel that their songs reach out to me in ways I've never thought possible. And it's funny how I used to think Mayer and Coldplay were really annoying.

I'm sitting with Zoe's iTouch tuned into my head for the past few hours. She has amazing taste in her music (even though she doesn't have much Paramore or NO Mayer at all.) Maybe it's only amazing because our taste is so similiar. Haha.

School has been a torrent of drawings and art (in malay, bleh.) On top of that, Azlina's leaving in about a weeks time, and I'm so sorry to see her go. She's just been the most amazing, sarcastic, sexiest art teacher. But I understand why she has to leave, and I don't object :)

I haven't been catching up with much of my school work, thanks to my art. I gotta do really well for my trials, else I'd have to wipe my hands off writing the script and choreographing performance and awards night.

I'm dying to walk away from this all. I don't think I can take it all in anymore.

You don't know how lovely you are.

How I've been dying for a tat.
The only thing that's holding me back is SPM.

And god damn, a whole lack of greens.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

As many times as I blink I'll think of you tonight.

I thought this was impossible to finish at first.
But Mayer, Adele, Duffy, Winehouse, ACDC, 30STM, Panic and FOB helped me a lot.
I'm almost done.

And like love, I doubt I can take this all in at one go.
Prolly finish this up by the end of the week.

Monday, July 26, 2010

I'm a slave to a world I despise living in.

When all my words abandon me, when my will fails to carry my voice across the rushing winds, when my heart ceases to beat and the world comes crashing down to it's feet. I know that you would be there, a light brush of a cheek away, a shoulder to cry on, a constant comforting presense.

I would be an empty husk of what I used to be without you, a heartless, soulless being that doesn't deserve a place in this world.

When all fails.

You'd be there to catch me when I fall.

It already feels like I miss you guys, even when you're barely a drive away. :)

Are the wonders of my world.


Saturday, July 24, 2010

Because once upon a time i was falling in love, now i'm only falling apart.

I like the way you crinkle your eyes. And do the silliest things to get my attention. I like the way you divert conversations so quickly, hopping from topic to topic. I like the way you make up cute words to describe what you were going through. I like the way you cock your head to one side, or the most adorable way you smile. I like the way you handle your pencil, and can't decide which hand you'd like to write with.

I'd like to imagine those very fingers between mine. I'd like to know what it's like to be so close to you, inches away from hugs, desperate grasps, and the most intimate of kisses. I'd like to imagine the smell of your hair, and guess the songs that are playing on your iPod, or read Letters to Crushes and imagine if you were writing them anonymously to me.

I'm addicted, to the things you say, to the things you do, cliche as it sounds.

You're a perfect mess, a comfortable surprise.

Remember my list of things?

I didn't tell you, but you're on it.

Two by two romance.

It's times like these where I feel that some part of me, some part of me that I've created and molded within myself, is something that people have learnt to love. And for that my insecurities have diminished a little. I'm never not strong enough to keep holding on. It is a limit I would never weigh down my arms with.

Thank you.

Friday, July 23, 2010

I think I left a piece of my heart in your dresser, in case you wanna start over.

Why can't I have hair like this? UGH.

Okay, whining aside. Today was fairly amazing. Went on an impromptu lunch date to Fullhouse with half the cru, 2/3s of the triple Y, and khai wen haha. Lunch was great, bought a lot of snacks, cause I'm cool like that.

I can safely say that today is by far one of the best days of the year. Every other day is just a blur of alternating schedules to keep up with. I can't tell my days apart anymore cause they all seem the same to me.

Still trying to rush my art project, and I started off with a new sketch (I know, bad timing), that I hopefully can get done by the end of the week. I'm such a dork when it comes to art.

Anyway, main reason for my unexplained burst of joy (which will be explained now),

I think you're the prettiest girl in school. You're smart, beautiful & true to yourself. Your dancing skills are crazy good. You have perfect english!! You don't try to be somebody you're not. Beautiful all over. If i were a guy, I'd so ask you out! :)

I'm not smart, trust me -.-

But thank you. It means a lot to me, even though the last sentence was a bit gay (don't worry, I would ask you out too! wink wink).

You've made the world an infinitely beautiful place to be in today :)

I like the part with the perfect English. It's one of the little traits I like to keep with me till I die or get hit by a Bentley.

I guess it's time to bury my head in my books and hope I will fall asleep and drool between the dog eared pages of my god damn history books.

Till then, lovers.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Of dreams.

The pendulum swings our time away,
the clocks ticking endlessly.
We are enclosed in our fairytales.
Cocooned by our own imaginations.
Our timeless fantasies.
The limitless thoughts of our fictions.
We'd live through.
The blood that taints our skin,
the cuts that burns so deep.
We'll live.
Don't we always?

One of those rare times where my mind has wandered off to a place far from reality.

I love books. You can chain me to my room with an endless supply of Starbucks, a warm jumper, a few bean bags, with the rain tapping against my window, and let me read for days. I think guys who read are extremely voluptuous. It's just something about it that intoxicates me.

I've been dying to watch Adam and Charlie St. Cloud. Armed with a box of tissues, and a shoulder to literally cry on. Though it doesn't really seem like it, I'm a total sucker for romance novels and films.

Maybe it's cause they portray love in such a way, it seems surreal. They set me up, and force me to make-believe in romance.

Cynical as I am, I do believe that someday, there will be a Prince Charming for me. Piercings, skinnies, book lover. Who dances. And talks in riddles and rhymes. Who sings. With sarcasm that stings like a bitch. Humorous. Unafraid to voice out his own opinions. Finds a thousand million ways to say I love you.

God, I was supposed to be a dreadful, irate, analytical, relative person. What is wrong with me.

Everytime I wind up on your back door.

This is Luis Borges, a model I've been dying to see come out in Dazed and Confused for a long time. His style is really unique, and he is amazingly cuteee. I'm still all eyegasms for Cole Mohr and Gaspard Menier though.

So I keep getting bombed by shitastic questions on Formspring. Like, the one I just answered about 5 minutes ago after having a pretty decent day.

i think you should stop posting camwhorey photos of yourself on facebook. When are you going to realize that you're not pretty at all? Your face scares me.

Taking pictures are like my vice, like how being a pussy must be yours. You don't need half an eyeball to know that I'm not even remotely close to being 'pretty'. I scare everyone to a certain extent, you slow witted being.

Rule number one, don't start your sentences with 'I think you should', because honestly I don't give a shit about what you think :)

See. And then they claim that I have a very bad outlook on life.

I desperately need a cup of coffee, and I'm about to explode in my school uniform. 3 scenes to type out before Monday, exams in 2 weeks, a constant need to update my tumblr, a party, a musical. I don't think I know how to exist without plans.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Promise not to leave me behind.

Goodnight, and hello my lovers. I'm feeling a little ...
today. (notice the butt sized eyebags.)

I know, I know. God I look like a train wreck. I've been missing a lot of my sleep, mainly because I've been hanging out with the gang and all too much. First a sleepover (more like a wakeover), which resulted in actual sleeping at 6am, seeing Adranne off the day before she left to Aussie till about 2ish am, and watching Kick Ass at Ryan's till about an hour ago.

I wouldn't trade all that for a lifetime supply of good sleep though.

I'm a dreamer. That I admit. I've got the wildest ones all bunched up in my head. Haha. Good times. It's making my hair curly. Da da dush. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately (didn't think my brain had the ability to do that).

And obviously, when a cynical teenage girl is up way past her bedtime, she thinks about (you got it ladies), love. It feels almost impossible for me to ever fall in love with anyone. No one lives up to my mega over-the-top perfect description of a boy.

I'd say though, the key to my heart is through good fashion sense, and god damn good music. The whole break dancing requirement thing is just a phase that would pass, just like the typical guai loh thing and the Vans factor.

I just feel that, through music I express so much. My anger, my hate, my pain, my hurt, my happiness, my stone...ness, and obviously my love for music. I guess it just tells me a lot about a guy through the music he listens to, but that's just me. But I really hate people who jam commercialized songs in their iPods to impress people. Eww, eat my... FOREHEAD.

It's about 1.30am, and I'm so so so tired, so I should probably get going before I walk in zombified in school tomorrow. Hopefully I wake up in the morning without my mum yelling the house down and dragging my half dead carcass out of bed. Ah, that would be a nice thing to dream about, wouldn't it?

Taa, lovers.

Back at your door.

From the moment the lights went off
Everything had changed
Lie awake in an empty room
In my head it all feels the same

Like the taste of the day you left
That still lingers on my breath
And the dampness of tears that left
A stain where you had wept

All alone with the negligee
That still hangs off of my bed
I keep meaning to give it away
But I just leave it there instead

No need to cry about it
I cannot live without it
Every time I wind up back at your door

Why do you do this to me?
You penetrate right through me
Every time I wind up back at your door

3 more days til I see your face
I'm afraid it's far too much
Cook a meal and fix up the place
Dial your number, hang it up

If I took you for granted
I apologize for acting tough
You're my reason for living
And there's no way I'm giving up.

-Maroon 5.

Bulletproof heartbreak.

So I've decided to start over my entire torrent of emotional posts. It's impossible to understand how much has passed since the last time I've been able to hear myself think.

I've been listening to a crazy load of good songs lately, and I'm contended. But Miley Cynic, the Jonas Butts, Taylor Slow and that lot have to jump of the same cliff and die together.

Anyway, if you want a selection of songs that always make me go 'sex', I'll list it down.

1. Please Don't Go- Barcelona
2. Listen (live) - Beyonce
3. Tie Up My Hands (live) - Starsailor
4. Somebody To Love - Bieber ft. Usher
5. She's A Genius (live) - Jets
6. Dreaming With A Broken Heart (live) - John Mayer
7. You Don't Know Me - Ray Charles
8. Seduction - Usher
9. Heaven - Do
10.Lost - Coldplay

For some odd reason, I think Bieber is amazing. I don't see you earning a million dollars by the time you're 16. I don't see you making huge (but slightly irate) hits on billboards within a few months. His voice is really good, and his running notes and vibratos are so good.

Anyway, I'm due for a shower, miss the smell of my body shampoo.