between fright and foolishness

Here I go again, trying to deny my feelings.

My smile explains it.

My eyes shine it.

My lips curve it.

My tongue deny it.

There's a problem in me. To be specific, a big question mark. Why do I deny it all the time?

Maybe the answer is only one.

Afraid of losing.

There's a theory implemented in my head that by the time I start saying, "I like you", the whole temple that I built and protects my insecurity will just...fall apart.

I want him to know this.

I want him to realize it.

I want him to help me.

Help me to feel secure enough to admit it...

Maybe this is too early but I feel good around him.

Can it be counted as 'like'?

If not, I am innocent.

the thing about distance

There's a long line between my place, his place and her place.

There's a sweetness between us that is separated by oceans and lands.

If I could just live every single of my imagination to walk hand in hand with them, I think it will be fascinating and memorable.

Nothing's perfect.

Good friends are too far and I can't come right away to them to cry on their shoulder or joke then punch each other's arms between laughters.

I have lots of good friends around me too, but to have more good friends are just... insanely great.

If I could just hold their hands while I tell stories, it would mean the world.

But for now, I have to stick with typing to them.

All of these rants are just an elaboration of the three words, "I Miss You."

midnight cries.

cyber-world, praise yourself.

you are the first to know.

I can't sleep 'til midnight lately.

Maybe insomnia.

If couldn't sleep and couldn't stop crying is insomnia, then I am insomniac.

You see, worries and everything else dam up and were released in midnight.

But the worst of all is the fear of losing.

Mom has been through a lot of things that I doubt normal people is able to endure. In recent years, she suffers this unsettling pain in her bone. Tibia maybe.

She went to Singapore last week, did a full check-up and is waiting for its result with a fear of getting zarcoma. She is a philanthropist together with Dad and has helped a young girl with zarcoma. That just pitch another worry.

She shows no fear or worry but I feel it.

In midnight, I would look at her back or her snoring face and slowly sneaks out of the room and sob. Maybe the fear of losing her and not seeing her face, hearing her loud shrieking voices, eating foods together, missing her stout figure, just blindly killing me.

No matter how much we argue, if I lost her, big part of me would die.

She made me the way I am.

We joke, we fight, we shop, we eat, we sleep and we share everything together.

All I could do is to make her life better. I know I may not be so good in this but I will try my best. She is the best thing in my life.

wicked.

That adjective is clearly for me.

I am so wicked that I could find others fault on and on.

But not to praise myself, I am a just person.

I found my mistakes too. On and on.


But I do care of what other said. About me, about her, about him, about every single freaking things in the world.

Maybe I am just a wicked lost teenage girl.

Another thing,


Maybe I am.


Au Revoir.


xoxoxo

the thing about love

I stop myself from typing the thing about my love. When my love comes up, it turns into some cheesy ballad.

Anyway,
Cyber world, I am undergoing something.
More like symptoms.
Most says it is love symptoms.
But,
Cyber world, I am too afraid to say so.
Afraid of fading.
Afraid of losing.
In addition,
Cyber world, I don't care about the pain.
I am not an S&M addict,
I just find pain developing.
To sum up,
Cyber wrold, if you ask me if I am in love,
I may punch you in the face,
for the fruit of my unknowing.


So cyber world, see you when I get a boyfriend.





Just joking, it would be centuries from now.

*knockingthewood*

damn numbers!

Turns out that...Damn...

My scores are so bad that I could even hide under the bed and cover my ears so I won't see the number or hear the pronunciation of them.

Cursed numbers.

Just kidding.

I am not one of those uneducated hopeless brat.

I got bad scores and it's all my fault. Here I am to be responsible for it. Studying my ass off to get it high and as Obama would say, YES WE CAN. Only Sisca said, YES I CAN.

Not so important. Well, it is important actually.

Ah. What am I rambling around here?

Who cares if I ramble? It's my blog, my page. Don't like, then back off. Besides, nobody knows me. Ha.


Dear numbers, beware. I will kidnap number 1 and two 0.
xoxoxo