Heated halls.

Just thought it was a really nicely done lyric video. Watching it yesterday right after Lone Wolf brought me close to tears, because I could totally imagine Cara dedicating it to Luke. The pain hit me when I stopped to wonder how it would be like, to watch the somebody that you loved most go, forever.

And by the way, out today:

You are so intent on being everything, everything

You are so intent on pleasing everyone, everyone

So I was left alone at home for something like 6 hours and I made my own brunch:

Virgin scrambled eggs, unedited.

and did manicure:

yinyang nails.

Not bad, at all.

Settled my own dinner, too! This cues for a standing ovation.

Was gonna go learn Stars on the keyboard but the bro is there fucking his new phone gently so I thought I’d go to my old faithful mac for comfort while mum socialises with insurance people downstairs.

You know I was just doing my manicure, and because my left hand is such a dead thing, my right hand ended up being a complete failure. And it just sort of reminded me of the barber story. (In case you don’t know what I’m talking about: In town X there are only 2 barber shops with 1 barber each and they are situated opposite each other. Once, two foreigners came to the town and needed a haircut each. They observed that Barber A had neatly cut hair, his shop spotless; Barber B’s hair was a mess as bad as his shop, his floor half covered with hair. The foreigners went to a shop each and turned out Barber B was the better barber. His hair was terrible because Barber A cut it, and the amount of hair on his floor reflected his business.) The exact same case for my nails. Which kind of also reminded me of how there are just some people that just keep on giving and giving, and there are just good-for-nothing people that are always on the receiving end. But then again I guess it sort of works in a cycle, like how A is willing to walk through hell for B but B just takes A for granted and chases after C like how A chases after B. And it goes on and on and nobody is ever happy. Because mutuality is that rare, because a real connection is, as cliché as it sounds, one in a million.


The other day I was looking through some old stuff and found a line that a senior wrote to me years back, and it struck me pretty damn hard:

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.

But what if I don’t have a dream? 

Sometimes I feel like I’m just isolating the other me at a corner of my mind with the most delicate divider, like I’m on a raft in the middle of a vast ocean of emotions. The lightest breeze sends my raft swaying, and I always have to try so hard to keep myself from tumbling over, because I know it’d be days, weeks or months before I can get back to safety zone. It’s terrifying.


Even when it means hoping against hope.


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