he hasnt been back. she's eerily but understandably happy, and everyday im waiting for her to come back to grace her day with smiles, cut fruits and cook my legumes, give her my magazines and we're all wondering - how long will this peace last? she's mustering her courage but there is no way out. im seething inside, angry at the world - breaking people with scars so deep they dont quite bleed.

a creator of happiness
a dreamer of better things

dark red is the colour of roses that have long dried up.
it is the signifier of the Cult of Reminiscence,
of a journey past its prime, reconciling itself unto a mellowing maturity of sorts.

it is the colour of a shell made of little petals put together in an intricate fashion, persisting in its form yet empty of its content -
like dried up roses.

i want my fresh bouquet of roses, the ones you surprised me with on valentines day, mister debonair, the colour of this red,

the colour of Hope and Precious Declarations.

once again, you're such a disappointment. the love-weary cannot give love - they only take and suck you dry. once again, you did'nt come after me when i chose to go away. the heart-weary ceases to listen to their heart, just to save their skin. logic, rationality and calculated moves preside over your every action. your ennui reveals much - an inability to be grateful and appreciative over your treasures.

i can play chess too, you've taught me well. your protege predicts that once again, they'll be yet another plaster girl for you to run to, to run away from this awful mess that has been there since forever -once again in search of lighter baggage and less tempestuous seas.

i do not need you to patronize me, dishing out compassion on cheap-silver platter - your perception of me as a little girl who needs all the protection from the world, that my seeming weakness as a woman(such gender essentializing. smack. if you were strong in the first place, you would know how to love me) probes you to extend that hand of kindness to hold on to something which is essentially stagnating (in your eyes)(and in need of your sterile imagination to reinvent and invigorate new freshness). so then, tell me how i managed in the past to stay in a two-half yr relationship and still be very much in love?

it is you who is killing me with your jadedness, stoicism, blatant cynicism and disregard for the wholesome things in life. ive forgiven, over and over - me, practice tit-for-tat? no sirree. till perhaps when you learn to come after me and know how to love. i dont need anyone else to fill up that void - i wont subject anyone to second-hand love. so till then, to healing, once again.

i cannot love men who are dying while they live.

ending soon, one more day - dreadful school.
but i dont feel like going out, or being with anyone for tt matter. very broke as well.

i feel like spontaneous serendipity should take over - no pre-planned meetings, nothing organised. just for once, for my own plans to take root - be it to take a stroll at east coast at midnight (i dont quite care, i always hv a pocket knife with me), or for my body to detox itself (instead of stuffing myself full with food which i dont quite like in the first place just for company's sake) or to rot at home watching dvds and lounging about(instead of exposing myself to second-hand smoke or environmental pollution or to alcohol which might be a necessary accompaniment to induced-fun which is never real fun in the first place unlike good heartwarming conversations and flighty-flighty laughs and in the second, which is not a lot of fun when you know it does your liver harm. yucks)

this is as neurotic as it gets i guess. this might very well also be bordering on being obsessive-compulsive.

just gimme two weeks i guess for me to relax my body and my mind after, what - decades of education and forced socialising.