Come Hither.

Took a week's worth of Valium and slept.


People who talk about their dreams are actually trying to tell you things about themselves they'd never admit in normal conversation. But when it happens to you, it feels so specific. Why must conversions always come so late? Why do people always apologize to corpses?

Work right now? Is just mundane. Got hit by a virus, again. But what's new? School never seemed so pleasing to me till right now, right now, I say. Y'know? At least school don't stink, like hospitals. Well, not literally, I suppose. Because they always have those spray-can air disinfectants lying around - disinfectants that smell like lavenders. Why, I hate lavenders.

And even Vacuum cleaners don't suck so much like hospitals do.

Well, I think I better go see a nose doctor, or rather, a nose specialist. Because this sinusitis is getting to my head. I wonder what do nose doctors do? And I wonder if they have the curiousity humongous enough to experiment on themselves, say, behind closed doors, then like, try to poke stuff up their nostrils to "experience what my patients go through," I say, rock on, doc. Don't you just love these kind of doctors? What morbid dedication.




Eew, Dinner and Dance. Formal events are such a chore : /

I guess I'll just take this opportunity to squander sensibly purchase pieces of cloths; to satisfy my inner wants ( more like, to satisfy the roaming eyes of random, pervertic, male especially, strangers. ) Whatever the case, we'll see what this sick creative mind of mine can come up with. Till Saturday; may the Good Lord bless me ( and others too, lest I murder myself, worse still, mass murder kiasu shoppers, in the midst of finding an appropriate event attire, and then murder myself, or something? )

Or something.
Quit making conversations with yourself, bitch.
Can't help it.
Go die, slut.
Oh, okay.




Maybe, just maybe, I may have a coffee companion for lunch. The one who self-inflicted physical, emotional even, pain on himself, by thoughtfully disconnecting his network for the better sake of the world his future.


Well, I have cravings for carbonara, I think. That will change, of course. I will see what the boy wants. Maybe I'll go with his. Guess whatever that is, it will have to wait for dinner :B



To hell with frantic blinking. My eyes are fucking dry. I think I wore my contacts wrongly; wrong degree, wrong eye.


So clever, Lyn.
Really, well done.

-,-




NEED.A.DRINK.



You say Moheeto, I say Mojeeto.