Someone Somewhere.

Someone is waiting
someone who understands exactly how you feel
exactly how you feel..
someone is dreaming
someone is hoping just that this will be the day
that this will be the day..

that you take your eyes off the ground
out of the blue
and see that someone is looking right
back at you..

maybe that someone's me
maybe it's meant to be
lovers, strangers
sometimes bombs fall quietly..
maybe it's chemistry
maybe it's hard to see that someone is the right one
i hope that someone is me..

nobody's perfect
nobody's perfect no one really knows the truth
all we've got's a point of view..
and there's too many questions
there's too many questions and too many reasons not to try
there's too many reasons not to try..

but you should take your eyes off the ground
out of the blue
and see that someone is looking right
back at you..

CHORUS

where ya gonna go from here??
cause everything you need's out there
and you can have it if you dare
if you dare
there's someone somewhere..

Super fan girl moment.

Farah introduced Justin Nozuka to Lucas, and he showed him to me a couple of days back. I'm so hooked I'm not even kidding. What I would do just to listen to him breathe, and listen to him talk. I would honestly chop off my hair just to watch him sing, and to sing with him :)

He's so underrated.

Justin Bieber? Heck, move over. Justin Nozuka's in townnn, bitches.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PToNZ5QsUI0&feature=fvw

That's me facing reality.

Who wants the perfect guy? Not me. I don’t want anyone perfect. I don’t want anyone normal, thats just boring. I want someone weird. I want someone unpredictable. I want someone who lets things slide and who loves to laugh and makes me laugh. I want someone who will be crazy about me, and isn’t afraid to let everyone know it. I want him to be able to tell me to shut the hell up when I am bugging him. I want someone who challenges me, in every way. I want someone who puts up with my shit, but isnt a pushover. I want someone who pisses me off, but I can never be mad at. But perfect? That’s one thing I never want. Maybe just perfect for me.

So I got myself....

And I know my tummy is blergh and all but it's my stud of motivation to slim down hahaha. The girls reacted okay, but the boys -.- oh god, their reactions were priceless. It was so funny how Lucas and Ryan reacted, then Harry and Ariff.

All of them talked about what would happen if after I eat, my food starts coming out from the stud -.- But it's okay, I know you wish me well ;))

Hee. It was a really nice gift for myself I guess, a secret I can keep from prying eyes. Draws attention away from the flabs and all :p hahaha. The birthday was pretty fun.

Joey saved my birthday by convincing me to get it done, and going out shopping with me. Ryan and Lucas were crapping in the car all the way home and Joey had a first taste of laughing non stop for half an hour :p

Again, the J's saved my night :)

We don't know which way to go.

I'm still impossibly confused at this birthday thing. It doesn't feel like much difference, except the constant flood of notifications on facebook. Is it supposed to have a significant meaning of some sort, being a year older?

I hardly get any more freedom than I have now. I'm still the same, on the inside, on the outside. The same wild hair, asian eyes, terrible skin. The same confusion when it comes to emotions, to decisions I can't decide upon.

Sometimes birthday's are pretty weird. It's like standing in a room filled with countless numbers of people, but feeling so alone.I've recieved tons of wishes, but hardly any makes me genuinely smile. Maybe the one or two that stands out from the rest, but that's all.

I'm just contended, under the sheets of my cold cold bed, warmed up by the heat inside, lying down by my side, reading Where The Wild Things Are, wishing for a light rain and probably an iPod with Corinne Bailey Rae and John Legend on constant replay, to perfect the scene.

I don't need to go out with you guys, not to get new clothes, not to get a new phone or a crazy new gadget (probably an iPod?), just maybe a ukulele to make up the guitar after Lucas leaves.

Maybe I just want you guys to remember. Not yell at me everytime I stumble or mess up. I'm a teen, I sleep late, I wake up with acne splashed all over my face, I get dramatic, I get lost, I get confused. That's what you're supposed to be there for, to pick up the pieces, not to trample over them like meaningless shard of an empty husk.

Anyway, to sum up the day, the boys in my life never let me down. Jon, and the twins, Marcus, Nasri, Wei Shen (double hees for that idiot), Nen (for the song) and Fen and Harry, and the most recent addition to the group (lol), Anthony.

I wouldn't say I'm happy, definitely not. But I'm quite contended in a way, just flowing along at ease. Maybe I'll get through the rest of the day okay. Maybe.

Yess, you people are amazing music lovers!

*click to enlarge*

Long live the mid2000s.

'Well, I can’t really speculate other than what he said to me, which was, he wasn’t at all happy about it, success to him seemed like, I think, a brick wall. There was nowhere else to go but down, it was too artificial for him, and he wasn’t an artificial person at all. He was actually, two weeks after he died, he was supposed to come here and he wanted to record a bunch of Leadbelly covers. It was kind of in secret, because, I mean, people would definitely not allow him to do that. You also have to wonder, he was a billion-dollar industry at the time, and if the industry had any idea at all of him wishing or wanting to get out, they couldn’t have allowed that, you know, in life, because if he was just to get out of the scene, he’d be totally forgotten, but if he was to die, he’d be immortalized.' Regards on Kurt Cobains suicide.

I miss Nirvana. I miss Kurt Cobain. I miss Fall Out Boy, Good Charlottle, Simple Plan, Yellow Card, Coldplay, Linkin Park, Radiohead, Faber Drive, Foo Fighters, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and so many more pop-punk bands.

All you have here, now, is silly repetitive lyrics sung by people who are barely worth the title 'artists'. What happened to the crazy mosh pit rock out concerts that people use to crave for? What happened to the screamos and the whole wild orchestra of screaming people who yelled for ACDC the moment he stepped on stage?

There's no longer anymore 'good' music. Mariah Carey evolved from a pitch perfect singing goddess, and reduced to shreds with her stupid R&B songs like 'Touch My Body'. Even Linkin Park is coming out with shitty songs that sound like Ol' Skool failed rockbands.

Music has always been a big part of my life, especially when it comes to dancing. Sure there are amazing R&B artists like Neyo, Usher, Beyonce. But what happened to just punk rock?

The only few music I listen to are now Corinne Bailey Rae, John Legend, Michael Buble, Duffy, Adele, Coldplay, 30STM, Paramore, Gavin DeGraw, John Mayer.

I don't know what this world is becoming, but I sure hate the music we have now. Like the world, music now is only going to spiral downwards. Call me backdated but I sure as hell won't listen to shit like the Jonas Brothers and Mariah Carey and Miley Cyrus and her stupid brother.

Letters to crushes.

I'd like to say I'm sorry. Sorry to all the women out there who have gotten their hearts trampled on. Sorry to the women who feel as though the only way to get men's attention is to dress inappropriately and act in ways that are not very you. Sorry to the ones that suffered through the pain of dealing with your cowardly love finding 'love' somewhere else. I'm sorry for the way you've been treated, the way you've been used, and the way you've been thrown away like you don't mean much.

Truth is, you do mean much. You mean a lot. Not just to me, but to the whole world. Look at yourself. Your smile, the way you're so focused on this right now. You are so beautiful. You really are. And you have a big, warm heart that deserves only the finest of men. Or women. Hey, I don't judge.

Open that heart to only those who deserve it, and learn to protect your heart from those who don't. I know your beauty, and I know your strength. Keep hanging on, okay? Some of us really are good. You just have to sift through the pain, keep believing and find your way.

We'll be waiting for you.


I love reading Letters To Crushes.
Brightens up my day.

http://letterstocrushes.com/

Sights and sounds.

I pick up the phone, and I hear the silent, unending beep on the other end. I think of you, of how you would sound like saying hello, hi, I love you? I lie back down on the bed, feeling the cold down feathers pressing against my cheek, winding my fingers around the cord. Maybe velvety, the kind that slinks it's way around hearts with oblivious, quaint charm. Maybe husky, rough and raspy, a voice that doesn't need to be strained to be heard. Maybe it's soft, and beautiful, a voice that is the carrier of lullabies when I have trouble sleeping, that entwines my being with every word uttered. Or even dull, monotonous, the kind that takes a person forever to decipher the emotions beneath the lull of the voice.

I flip over, trying to match you to every voice possible. Sultry, whispery, harsh, cold, joyful, brisk, intoxicating, beautiful.

And then I hear the white noise on the other end. I smile, and lay the phone back on the reciever, lying back down on my back, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling.

Thinking. Wishing. Dreaming. Imagining the casual string of words in which you would draw from your lips, that I know I would always come to love.

Nictionary.

Yes.

Pulling me back, pulling me in, just like gravity.

So I dropped a note off on the counter top after I took a short shower and blew dry my hair. Grabbed my things, the books, the card, the money, the phone and shot out the door. And I'm walking and walking, and I'm thinking. And each step takes me a little further away from what troubled me. And I realized it was cause I wasn't close to this place I call home.

I'm not saying that I hate being there. I just feel so trapped.

So I turn off my phone, settle it in my pocket and put on some Buble that makes me want to prance around the street like a Broadway musical. I eat lunch by myself, staring at the little cute kid who constantly plays peek-a-boo with me between the chairs. Paying the bill. Walking off.

Studying in the library. Tuning off the thoughts that ran wild in my head. It was practically a breath of fresh air. All in my head was all that jazz, and it keeps the shadowy ghosts of troubles at bay.

All I needed was some time alone, and away from all this.

But now I'm back, surrounded, swallowed by reality. Nothing good ever lasts.

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn.

I've had a rough couple of days.

And today, after the carnival, I got bombed on Formspring.

And then I've got the good ones. Which make me feel a whole lot better.

But God only knows how much dancing and these people make me feel like I'm worth something. Dancing with them makes everything go away.

But I'm being taken away the privilledge of expressing myself. I've been asked by my parents to quit the crew countless number of times. And just recently, they have decided that sending me to ballet is too much of a stress to handle, and they stopped me.

I'm lost. And I don't know what to do.

But I'd like to thank the few people who made me feel a lot better :) People like Nasri, Harry, Kieran, Arthur, Eunice, Chooi Jing, Jasper, Kimberly and Irah. It wasn't great words of wisdom, but it was enough to keep me comfortable for a moment.

I'm totally worn out emotionally. Need to sleep this shit off.

Jenners.

So, finally the class had a photoshoot. Ngeh. Bored of my hair.

Wish my hair was back.

:(

When all that's lost, remains.

So in here, I'm with you.

In your arms, I'm submerged beyond comfort. In your heart, I stay with an ache for your touch that can't seem to go away. In your eyes, I'm worth more than what I am. In your warmth, I am scalded and seared by your fervour. In your words, I am swayed by the quintessence of your quaint confabulation. In your mind, I walk around tirelessly in endless circles. In your caress, I am embraced like a wounded child. In your clasp, is a fused together piece of us which I refuse to let go.

But, you are no longer.

For I have woken up, and in my mind, the image of your face does not linger.

I have to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I set you apart.

I finally have nothing to say.

I hate how you leave me in pieces. I'm holding on, waiting for you to patch this heart back together again.