i would like to have a bum

Something like the one above. That would be nice.
Being a stick-thin girl for two-thirds of your life isn't such a bad thing in Asia. Afterall, there are crevices in many Asian societies that can accommodate girls with paper-sque dimensions. I had almost never been told that I am anorexic during my years of growth even though growth was barely noticable on me at all during those years. Many of my peers describe me as the "slim" one that boys generally fancy over those with "bulky" thighs and bottoms.

An example of a "slim" girl that's preferred




over one with a "heavy" body.



This amount of ass is too much for your miniature wiener to penetrate!
(hence not the preferred choice)

It's not a hard concept to grasp especially if you live in a society where 30 percentage of the men around you are skinnier than the lady in the above picture. 40 percent bigger (in terms of fats), 15 percent of about the same size (and mass), 10 percent bigger in terms of muscle, and well, a special 5 percent are probably trying out her clothes as we speak. Alright these are less than just rough numbers, but you get my point. Fragile men usually prefer even more fragile ladies, and there are plenty of such males around here.

I had never been happy with the skinny way I was. Even when I could go into fitting rooms with any XS or S-sized garment and emerge to parade how it fits me the way it fits the clothes hanger. This, disturbingly, happened to be what many of my peers envied during our years of growing up.
Yet I am terrified by the notion of being fat. It's the last thing I will allow happening to my body. In the event of having to make a choice between being a beached whale and a piece of stepped-on pancake, I chose abused pancake.

I spent all my teenage years in denial and delusion, trying to get rid of those invisible fats I obsessively believe is there. (yea I still believe in that now. gimme some time to get over this one)
I trained with DIY dumbbells crafted out of used soda bottles filled with the heaviest liquid I could lay my hands on.... which turned out to be just water because I gave up begging for mercury from the school's dentist. I told myself that I must be able to do pull ups and push ups by the dozens and not break into sweat. I gave myself unrealistic goals of growing to be 1.7 meters tall with a lean, fat-free body of an Olympic gold-medalist.

Never quite get there.

Instead of gaining mass and fats proportionately, I succeeded in burning away all of those fats that were crucial for my bodily functions and safety. In retrospect, I might have gotten rid of some important fats that were much needed.... I still remember the feeling of having a "jumping" stomach when I was bolting down flights of stairs then. Probably wasn't having enough fats to pad it down in my abdominal cavity.
I gained a few sinews here and there, but didn't manage to clock even a single decent pull up. Then there were some boys who started labeling me as a tom boy after I outran them in a race. Needless to mention, you cannot determine your own height. I fell 10 centimeters short of my ideal range.

What I should have done



to stroke my bruised ego.

So I matured and started off as the skinny, bumless, boobless employee when I joined the workforce close to 7 years ago. I declare with little remorse that I didn't give up on my obsession with being fat-free. In fact, I have added as clarity to my goal and a topping to this challenge, the need to gain muscle definition, a bum, and a set of boobs that will jingle just a little when I run about excitedly.

I tried out all kinds of theories and products over these years. Whatever it takes (apart from surgery) to nudge me a wee bit closer to my goal, I did. I grew a cup size plus a little more in 7 years through phases of eating a lot and working out as much to sculpt away the chubs from spots that are better off slim. I somehow got a tiny ass via my deal with Emma (refer to blog post below to understand this magical being) and climbing long flights of stairs religiously as I commute between home and work everyday.

I find humans with strength very beautiful and I believe that everyone subconsciously agrees with me on that. If you think otherwise, you might have to read up about sexual dimorphism somewhere where it's full of science then come back again. (and I still won't debate with you cos it's my blog and I bullshit here occasionally without having the obligation to service anyone's argument)

I would like to have a bum on my behind (if that makes any sense), and a perky set of boobies that fit more than Speedo Junior swimwear. But most important of all, I am working towards having a body that is strong enough to hoist a couple of grocery bags for ten blocks without needing to call for reinforcements because I would like to be able to do things for other people without them going, ERrr.... babe I'm not too sure. Maybe you should just sit there.

Freedom is



enabling your body to carry itself for you when fun is at hand

"You've got a pretty face. It's a waste you got those delts."

Didn't manage to say this to that dude back then, but you seem to have a tiny brain. You ought to chop off half your penis so that both your heads match up to each other.

ツイート

hellooooo p brain!

So you think it's cool to have someone who also spot a tongue piercing, smokes, drinks like a fish, and behaves amateurish join you in your department at work?
Pretty neat I must say, for the first 2 weeks. Afterwhich everything took a turn for the unimaginable when you became the only amateur on the block screaming obscenities in the lifts and gargling your own curses before clueless people and a coyly smiling buddy.

I used to crimp my wayward hair before I go to work. Somewhere along the line I decided maybe it isn't worth all that trouble considering how damaging it is to put your dying tresses through such abuse daily.
Then I gave up looking human altogether since a year and a half ago. It was that fateful day when I walked back into office with my pal, unknowingly displaying a piece of pink velcro stuck to my head and gagging on my diarrhea of swear words. We left behind a group of folks with their mouths hanging open in aghast thinking, my oh my, what a horrible girl, yelling obscenities at her harmless friend so openly.

OMG



This girl needs to go crawl back into her mother's womb, listen to some Chopin and cultivate some anger management skills!

God should know the truth behind everything. And I am starting to think he didn't or has been secretly enjoying it on the expense of my reputation and sanity. I can back up this claim because among those who do know what has been going on, they seem to think it's rather amusing (albeit very noisy), this daily display of ararara by me and hahaha from her.

It's been a rather tedious ride, me and you. Yes, you, Emma trololoh. And I am relieved that I am not around today to bid you farewell because I know how awkward it will turn out for me, needing to be nice to you when you have always been a nuisance to me. You taught me a lot of things beyond your years and mine, and I am confused about my verdict on these lessons I have had from you.
Stuff like your quest involving swimming over to a deserted island with a roll of toilet paper over your head, dig out a hole in the sand and making a doody. Experiences of how you ran across Orchard road and its life-threatening spew of traffic with a giant drum over your shoulders just to escape the fine you are supposed to pay for littering with your cigarette bud. And not to forget, how you crap in your mother's womb, on the dinning table, and by the road side during a family road trip.... endless out-of-this-universe stories only a seriously fkd up or genius person can tell.

By the end of today these will all be gone to the next unfortunate place that will have to put up with your mischief. It's a little sad for me, all because I am such a kind, forgiving, and benevolent soul. I believe there's always a little good in everyone and I educated myself to spot that. (It's on those couple of fingers you have yet to tattoo)

Please don't lose faith no matter how much people tell you how you are a fkd up child like I once said to you. They may be wrong cos I doubt you ever cause them the kind of inconvenience and humiliation you did me. (So that puts them not in the position to stomp all over your godforsaken soul)
Just go out and grab your boss by the horns (don't worry, I bet your horns are bigger than hers) and wrestle your way through. Make sure you pick up as much knowledge as your empty cranium can absorb and earn yourself that coveted spot in the cable car.

I am so glad you are going away. Words cannot articulate what I think of you in the world of advertising. You will be so distracted with the tonnes of things you crave to learn, you will probably be less of a nuisance to the world.
Save your genius for things you can show off in your curriculum vitae, nooblet.
Set a name for yourself in the advertising world (not with your love and capability to consume rotten food and stay alive). I hope the next time we meet, I can proudly introduce you as a chief editor to my friends instead of just the biggest nuisance to mankind.


Now excuse me as this elderflower reverts back to a commonplace senior digital marketing specialist...

boring.

This picture says a lot about the gifter



and the recipient who ate the banana in the end

"i dont think she finds me adorable"

I don't think that's possible.

ツイート

guess what

And yes I jolly well was. If you can find that tiny subtle link somewhere on this colorful blog full of mini walls of text, you can tell how much of a surprise it is I am still around to blog and not resting in some urn.
(Over here, majority of the dead population gets cremated. Land is scarce on an island that is not visible on the atlas.)

Come to think about it, why the hell was I so angry with life?
I have the love of my parents. They never tell me "I love you" ever or say "goodbye" when they hang up on the phone. Beat the crap out of me numerous times during my teenage life for some forgotten reason, and called me mental and a slut on several occasions. They are also the ones to give up on every opportunity they ever have in their lives since me to trade for a glimpse of a chance for their daughter. That, I had usually cast away for more time to be lazy.

Thank god my father isn't Jacky Chan



and doesn't use his legs during punishment

I have a brother. Highly intelligent. Compassionate and passionate. Geeky (in the scientific sort of way). Advocates integrity, honesty, and chivalry. Romeo minus all the frills. Crazy.
I remember that a lot of my unhappy blog posts from the past had stemmed from dealing with my brother, having to deal with him, and the fact of needing to deal with him for the rest of his life. OCD is the biggest prank God has on us humans.
I am going to be extra harsh on this unfortunate soul, and since I am in an especially generous mood, I shall bestow upon those living within close proximity of him the adventure of loving someone who tells you "you cannot bathe when you need to because I haven't. I don't know when I will, and letting you in first is not an option".

This is the model for CK's Secret Obsession perfume



and no I don't look like that when I didn't get to bathe

I love my brother. I just do not appreciate the OCD in him. Don't tell me I am wrong for my lack of acceptance. I am sure the brother wants it out as much as I do.... if not more.

I was once a model student in school. And as I graduate into my secondary years, I switched profession. I became a loser.
Everything started from being too proficient in a language that was "uncool" and not the language you had to use when you pen down your answers for homework or examinations. You know how people tell you that "it's through a lot of practice dear" when you pipe about how awesome another person is with a skill? Just like how you cannot always expect a national swimmer to be a top vocalist, it's safe to assume I sucked at this "other" language that's "cool" in school and used in textbooks and examinations. (English, baby)
Did horribly for my studies and was disallowed to join any sports community because it will interfere with my grades according to my parents. Didn't like school anymore the day a clique gave me a chance and I blew it with an Academy award-winning display of stutter speech. I remember waking up one day and discovering I have been automatically sorted into the loser category.

Unlike in the school of wizardry



where they have something tangible to do the job specifically

Did I mention that my parents also limited my wardrobe choices to make everything a full package? So darn unredeemable, this whole thing. (With the 'thing' being me)
And just maybe, this wholesome package of being at the bottom-most of everything is the very thing that gave me what every growing child needed. Security.
You see, if you are a person who likes to squish bugs, you may pick on a harmless ladybug; Small, non poisonous, and gives a satisfying crunch. You will not pick a Brazilian Wandering spider, but neither would you pick a flea. It's simply not satisfying nor profitable to pick on one.
I never got bullied in school. No matter what I did, or not do.

So I grew up and got a hold of English. (And a couple of unfortunate boys)
Rebellious and dying to pave a road for all subsequent amoeba-like teens like myself, I ran amok with my out-of-this-continent dress sense and angsty, emo character. That carried on for the few good years that many of my peers spent studying hard for their degrees and securing both decent careers and men.
Now as I am bidding goodbye to my last twentieth-something years, I suddenly discover that albeit a lot older, I have become much happier and at peace with this world and what is happening around me. Don't get me wrong, I was angry with almost everything, just never myself. (Time to scream "BASTARD!!!" and pelt eggs.)


It's an amazing feeling, stepping away from things you get tired of doing for a cause that no longer brings you any further than where you have already been.
It's that sneaky, stealthy change that is painless and invisible to yesterday and tomorrow, but tells an incredible story you don't even know there is when you chose to look back decades down the road.

I am decades down my road now. Almost 3 decades to be specific.
As much as I spend a huge chunk of my wage on anti-aging and lifting beauty products monthly, I applaud every day I had as I lean closer towards my grave (Ok, fine. Urn.)
Here I am, constantly chiding myself not to look back so hastily for I will see a myriad of beautiful accomplishments and change if I am willing to hold it for a couple more milestones.... A few more breakups, loss of a pet or job, before I turn around and breathe.

Not the most angst-free stuff to say still



but it made me smile when I typed it out

"I am surprised you don't do self-mutilation."

I love surprises. I guess I will keep surprising everyone including myself as I soldier on in life.

ツイート

what are words

What do you do when everything you ever wished for comes true for you?
Will you sit back and relish this windfall of miracle, soak up the beauty of this world that spins only for you?
Or would you take in every bit gingerly and remind yourself that here comes one more thing that you don't deserve yet again? Maybe keep a mental log of these benefits you have had and scare yourself silly in the middle of the night with thoughts of how all these too-good-to-be-true things that you have always longed for will up and leave you one day?



What are words when you say them not feeling what they mean?
What are words when you say them then forget,
And leave when you do?

When in love and you say them to me,
They linger on and never go away.
They'll live on, even when you're gone.

And I know your promises I'll keep,
Even when they aren't just for me.
Cos this is the kind of girl I've been,
Even if you are to leave me...
When I need you the most.

Words.



So strong are they.

"i love u laopo and words are all i have to make you stay
and i hope u know that i mean every single word i said
i loved u . i love u . and i will always love you"

It's only fair that the very thing makes you soar will be the same thing that makes you fall.

ツイート

go kiss a frog please

For those of you who had someone tell you some story of a princess and a frog before, get ready for another modern day interpretation of this Brothers Grimm classic by the time you leave me blog.
Majority of the children in Asia who have heard of this froggy tale would probably have been told the version whereby princess kissed an ugly frog and changed it into a handsome prince. And if your storyteller had been particularly generous, the two of them end up marrying and living happily ever after.
Buying it or not, I grew up with that version of the fairytale.

I like froggies. Can't really understand the big Ooo ahhh over kissing one. I'll kiss one any day. They can swim fast, jump far, lick their eyeballs, and most adorable of all, carry this look of utter lostness on their face all the time. It's the wide-eyed "Omg.. . . shit. Ok, stop breathing maybe no one will notice" look.


Like, this kind of face.




So did every girl who shared my kind of childhood grow up thinking they should kiss a frog to be able to marry a prince eventually? Of course not. We went about looking for princes and making porridge out of cute froggies cos one simple fairytale is simply not enough to overcome the obvious and practicality:
If you want a prince, look for a prince. Dafug you wanna find a frog for? Too much time on your hands?

So there I was, like everybody else has been, looking for ma prince and failing over and over again. It got so disheartening at a certain point, I thought Ok, ya, so tis the end. Imma pretty much done with this. The next "prince" that rides by, I'll bonk him on the head with a golf club, rob his crown and sell it for some cash instead.
Then came a prince. (Let's call him Exhibit A.)



He can sing.




Doesn't eat junk food.




Works out.




Is sensitive to a woman's thoughts and feelings.




Dresses well and shops decently.




Holds a good career.




Not gay.





So I went straight for him. Princely Exhibit A fell for me too and we started dating. (Apparently nothing is perfect in this world; Not even princes cos they could be blind, or not very bright with their options when choosing ladies, just like the one I snagged.) Oh well, he's mine mine mine now and nothing is going to stand in our way.
After some vague moments of sticking around each other, we decided to do what couples do...


Kiss.
(wadchu thinking?! eh?!? eh?!)

It is lovely and sparks enlivening. It makes couples in love even more in love. It's got the effects of smoking and drinking at the same time.... once you start, you make a habit of it, and very seldom will you chance upon a strong enough reason to make you consider stopping yourself from doing it.
Before I knew it, we've kissed twelves of a dozen times. And with the imperceptibility of the metamorphotic life cycle of frogs, my princely Exhibit A became a froggy being 2 months into dating.
Instead of looking suave, he grins like a bashful boy.
Gone was the man of authority, and hello to this jumping, kicking thing when he doesn't get things to iron themselves out on their own.
Haven't had him speak to me without sneaking dirty innuendos into our conversation for the longest time. And for majority of our time spent together (which you can be sure is almost all of our waking hours), he would be this servile and mentally torpid creature. Much like the froggy in Lilo & Stitch.


I don't think you would remember that particular frog, so here it is.



Yep. This one.


Waddahell has happened?!
I thought we kiss frogs and they turn into princes! Now that I got to kiss a prince shouldn't he turn into a king?! Looks like a reversion of the laws of fairytale is working itself out around here.
Now that I am stuck with a frog, I would say I am all confused. Kissed a prince and got a frog. Kiss frogs and .... But the only frogs I am allowed to kiss are those swimming in porridge! I took a deep breath and delved into this paradox with all my might, surfacing only for gasps of air that came in a form of food delivered in the rain, wake-up calls every morning, cups of hand-squeezed lemony iced water for the drunk and abusive me, and serenades from my froggy who has never once left my side.
The last time I emerged, froggy was there looking up at me forlornly, promising me that he will do his best to marry me.
I think. . ..

the reason why we have been told as children, to kiss a frog is because that's what is actually best for us. Just so much more rewarding than chasing after rich and handsome princes who, if stayed the suave way you found them, will become too stuck up and concerned about their manliness to want to care for a relationship when the time comes for them to have to swim in muck.

I want to end this story with the same generosity of the storyteller who told me about the princess and frog when I was a child. This scary bitch and her froggy are so on their way to ring some wedding bells.

Kiss a frog correctly and it will become a prince



Not any old prince.
Just your prince.

"i too sticky and like a baby sometimes.
like a retard. like a moron. like a kid."

Like the man of my dreams.
Thanks for being the way you are. You are one hard frog to find.

ツイート

now look

Ever wonder how sexiness is being defined?
For me, almost never. It's not something that dictates my universe, nor is it something that will be tested at work. Not when I have to pay for food, and probably not when I'm held at gunpoint by random robbers.
I just don't give a fucking damn, and if need be, there is always the dictionary:

sexiness - amorousness: the arousal of feelings of sexual desire

Oh...... (Now you can bet I'll forget that in the next 20 minutes. Start timing!)

I had lost my ability to genuinely sense sexiness for the longest time. So when it occurred recently in the unprotected nakedness of a public fitting room, it kind of came across like being suddenly slapped awake with a pang of amorousness. In my utmost bewilderment coupled with snippets of panic, I fell into some sort of delirious, yabbering trance. It was embarrassing to say the least, and it left me pondering if I just hit puberty at the age of near 30 in H&M.

Truth be told, there are plenty of very good-looking people floating around us everyday. Be it on magazines, television, billboards, or the internet. I see them as much as others do, but never really feel like I desire them in my sexual escapades. I guess my definition for how sexy an item is depends a lot on its association with my heart and my life. If it's not something that I love, something that will readily accept my love and reciprocate feelings in return, it will not be something that I include in my lewd and erotic fantasies hidden in the depths of my dirty mind.
Explains why this bitch doesn't surf porn.... nor fap. (Damn, I really ought to love myself a little bit more)

So now I met someone I love, and he calls me "老婆".
I found myself eyeing him from every corner whenever he is not looking my way, sniping his back and slim waist with my lustful gaze while tormented by a troop of horned devils in tutus dancing in me head chanting, "sexy hay yo sexeh isn't it babe???"

What a horrible feeling I have chosen to drown in.... loving you so much I'm ready to hop into any ditch in just my knickers to prove a fucking point. (no pun, for decency's sake)

look at yourself, you silly old cow



you just stole every bit I have to offer away

"u made it sound so weird..."

"ya wad.
ppl wake up then do things.
i wake up to myself in the middle of doing something."

ツイート

你在做什么？

作工，作饭，还是做“啵”？
是做对做错还是不知所措？
瘦的弱不经风，胖的被笑似恐龙
恶意如果有借口当作游戏
好意不受明解视为假意

掏心吐肺言心事是过忠于自我
“以身作则”还没听说过
信任翩翩离家出走
前抚后捅是求生之道
“独自成长”是逆变之后

爱得太深是傻不理智
爱得理智是你不在爱
受宠的显是有心机
铁定爱骗善良人，专拜金

有口难言，行动恰是透明
只因视儿不见
惟怪选择性聆听


要走的就走，该留的上哪儿寻觅？
一万支废柴里寻留一支笔
我要的是让我写下你的名字的道具
不是燃烧我们美好回忆的能力

什么东西是世上最难做



但大家都不知不觉天天在拼了老命做的？

“那是什么?” . . . .

“人吧” . . . . . . .

ツイート

恋爱症无情

一路走来，很奇怪的流失了心仪的[爱你-黏你-嫁你]式初恋。
也罢。下一个就是你啦。 One more try, baby.
就这样，已经试到第四次了。天啊，你真他妈的累不累呗？？
恋爱了这么多，每一个你都想嫁。。。但没有一个把你娶回家。
付出了这么多，除了偶尔自己能偷偷赞自己以外好像也没有什么能留住这一段段脆弱的爱情故事。
段段都已分手收尾，朋友延续。

以前有许多专家告诉过焦头烂额的我，要以理性的态度谈恋爱。
我想，那不如不谈吧。

不是我不聪明。也不是我不小心。只是在爱得轰轰烈烈的恋情里，能挑起理智来主持心情的人应该只有三种：
1）拍戏人
2）一脚踏两船，并双脚都动用的贱人
3）所谓的“专家” （本小姐理解为比较爱自己的人）


我觉得我三种都不是。叫我怎么去理智恋爱？
“爱”一个字已经很不简单了，到底是哪个猪头当儿戏般在前后外加“恋”和“情”？？
好恐怖的组合，即困难，又叫人受尽波折。
要恋爱有时候真的好比讨老天给你活着下地狱，然后在你奄奄一息的数秒前一把蛮力把你托上天庭。
还没来得及喘气又一脚把你踹下人间。

真他妈的一点都不好玩。
现在经验需然充沛，但还是少了理智。
我看我真正需要的是努力和运气。
努力：让他爱着我
运气：让他适合我

去你的理智



其实分量适当，有一点点就过关了

“把每天都當作紀念日　把自己當作紀念品”

随时随地都在预备着自己如何去接受爱离开的多心悲观恋爱症状

ツイート

so.... will you

I have always had a fear for babies, marriage, and sticking around anyone other than myself and a mirror for too long. I can never truly understand why people marry each other after dating for a while.
It has to be the pressure from kins and family.
I'm Asian, and back where I came from, family members tend to take it courageously upon their shoulders to be responsible for your unchanged marital status by the time you hit your late twenties. It's a FOC service which you have been irrevocably opted into ever since you were born. It's a force to be reckoned with; One where no amount of rampant display of singlehood-happiness can penetrate the stubbornness to want to make you somebody's spouse.

Maybe it's the next step from dating cos things get boring?
Or maybe it's someone holding someone else with one end of a gun for a mistake that will only come terrorize the both of them nine months later...

It's intriguing, this whole I-wanna-marry-you business. It's perplexing, and it drains the juice from my limited, skinny brain. Then came a couple of late, late nights from the days of sweet, sweet dating like there's no tomorrow....
I found myself sitting in a cab alone, grabbing on to my mobile phone and desperately texting the entire trip home. Barely grasping grammar and spelling in my insobriety, parroting what I felt in my heart over and over every four lines into the conversation.
Before I knew it, it's time to pay up. I dished out my wallet and tapped my card generously on the cabby's shoulder. Wait a minute.
I am not the richest of all girlfriends. Neither am I in the mood to evict myself from the life of my love one. So why am I paying to get away from him?

In my wonderment of what the heck was I doing, I stumbled out of the cab which sped off milliseconds after I shut its door... ... with my phone sandwiched somewhere between the puke-stained, synthetic, navy folds of its passenger seat beeping a "I love you" I shall never get to see.

Lost my phone.
Lost my ID, wallet, keys, and almost every other important thing that doesn't grow on my body.
But I found my answer to marriage. It's the practical solution for something purely emotional.

I want to wake up next to you every time after I go to sleep, and carry on this amazing date we are having for the next 50 years without having to leave you for a place I am supposed to belong.

I think we belong together

And this, I believe, is what's going on for couples just before they realise it's time to marry.

脸对脸，拍张照。1，2，3，记得笑。



其实和对的人一起拍照，是没有什么得特地去切忌的。。。 尤其是微笑。

"Someday you will not need to :)"

They say it's not about the destination, it's the journey.
I can't help feeling it's about everything for us.
What a lovely journey, and I can't wait to arrive at the start of the aisle with you.

ツイート

the invisible man

What a way it is, to begin a blog entry by quoting an illegitimate blog entry from last year. God knows what kind of emo-bug bit me on that lovey dovey night of glistening full moon and dating couples dithering every corner of my lonely Bishan park.
Just an out-of-the-blue emotional rant stored within my battered iPhone, unwittingly a premonition for what's coming my way 3 months down the road. Fate, you bastard. When even I, don't get myself.... you certainly do.



I know how you behave and how you look like
I can identify with your scent
Your breathing and your footsteps
You will cry for me when I'm in pain
Laugh with me when I'm in joy
Share a secret candy on the train
Text me nonsense at any time of the day

We will travel to the most boring places there can ever be
And make it seem like a theme park
You'll write me poems on serviettes
And sneak them into my handbag

Come hug me after we fall asleep
And hug me tighter when I start to snore
You'll appreciate my actions
and will never once question what each one is for

You'll grab me when I'm least prepared
Leave me a present every time you head out the door
Sing me a song and drop me a ring
Go down on your knees and say "marry me!"

I can see you going about in circles, trying to make me happy
Cos there is no one else you see when you see me
I know how you look like, and who you are.
I just need you to come my way
So I can walk up and say "hey"

It's reaching the end of the road and you are very late...
Maybe I should have told you
I really hate to wait

12th Sep 2011.
To the very late, or invisible man

Hence I realised, as much as it takes for a man to remain invisible, the same amount of voodoo must have happened on the party whose job is to spot him. And eventually I learn.... it really is better to be late than never.
Thank you for showing up afterall.

it's amusing how invisible you have always been to me



and all of a sudden you are the only thing I see

"我喜欢你啦"

因为我不能这么轻易的骗你，骗我。
因为我知道我会一辈子逗留在台上的那五分钟，迷失自己。

ツイート