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November 2, 2009

On Seeing You Again

Filed under: emo rants, Posted at: 8:54 pm

Time has passed; the end is near, my destination is here.

A stroll down the East End is like a journey manifested by symbols; by signs that give directions - each step, a step closer to you. Eyes meet; the heart bleeds. And our gaze never wavers, not flickering in the breeze. You - and I - are not the same, and yet the feelings are. Some things can be immortalised; did Time not wipe us clean?

Should I give up or should I just keep on chasing pavements, even if it leads nowhere. Or would it be a waste; even if I knew my place. Should I leave it there; even if it leads nowhere?

For I have been there with you. And I will not cry no more.

January 3, 2009

On Past Loves

Filed under: little SEA dot, emo rants, Posted at: 3:47 am

Bad luck has shadowed me, for I had met a boy from my past as I was telling an old friend about my wishes of not bumping into anyone while I am here. If I had the guts to, I would have walked up to him, to muster some small talk peppered with condescension. But his girlfriend was with him; they were at my favourite franchised fried chicken outlet - one must not displease amidst the greasy airs that is home to the Colonel. And so I ran to the supermarket.

Inspired by an old post, I should one day gather enough courage to line up all those in my past and tell them - with fire in my eyes, their fragmented hearts spittoons for my acerbic words - that:

“You are inconsequential. A speck of dust in the fabric of life. A mere molecule of malady that befalls as rain on my parade. You are nothing. In fact, you are more than nothing - you do not exist anymore.”

September 1, 2008

On Blankness

Filed under: emo rants, favourites, Posted at: 10:00 pm

An excerpt from an unfinished entry months ago:

Last night I sat up on my bed, in the darkness. It could have been any other night, when I wonder why I couldn’t sleep; the cracks on the wall, the plastered blotches that hide impefections, the white walls that used to anchor memories. Now it’s a bare space that reaches out like a canvas. It’s an emptiness for me to fill, another page for me to write on. It was the continued existence of that blankness that made me pensive all night.

I just wish that someone would have told me that it would be like this. That it can happen to you.

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