My valentine.

Hello! This is a little bit late but here are some pictures from our Monday trip to FGS Dong Zhen Temple:

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No picture of me because I looked spastic in every single picture in my camera. Maybe I just look spastic.

I don’t know why I don’t have pictures of mom holding grandma’s hand because the whole time grandma was like the one people were taking care of. Grandpa was being so cute and waiting for her all the time (because she can’t really walk much/fast thanks to osteoporosis) and I was just like awwwww :’) And I actually got a teeny-weeny-bit jealous that she was the one everybody was taking care of, like the world revolved around her. I mean, how long has it been since I meant the world to somebody? I do miss being taken care of, being the centre of someone’s attention all the time. I miss being important. I miss resting in the assurance that I was loved passionately and genuinely. I miss knowing that I have someone to fall back on if I ever slip.

Please excuse my digression.

Check this out:

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I’d personally prefer someone to hold my hand instead of my wrist. But then again, there are all sorts of people in the world so this might just be a weird fetish of some sort.

Just to give you a rough idea of why I spend so much time on tumblr.

Just to give you guys a rough idea of why I spend so much time on tumblr.

 

I promise this is going to be the last day I spend my day in my room in front of my computer. I feel so antisocial. The rest of the family has been having quality time watching TV together at night and I’m just like an outcast. But then again, there isn’t space for me anyway, so I don’t know if I can actually be legitimately held responsible for being antisocial. But yeah, I guess I should start appearing downstairs because I have a feeling that I’m going to get a lecture on how I don’t spend time with the gramps pretty damn soon.

I want a typewriter. 😦

I don’t know why I never learn from past mistakes. Assholes will be assholes, how many times do I have to tell myself this until it sinks in?

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

A Dream Deferred – Langston Hughes 

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