Idea, ideal.

I love e idea of many things, do they make them ideals for me? Does it make them expectations? 

I love the idea of people. I love how we have hair, how we don't. How we have eyes, eyebrows also, to keep away the perspiration from entering our eyes, how we have noses, how we can smell the aromatic scent of our lover's hair. How we have lips, how we have a mouth, we can speak, and put across ideas and information in the form of words, how everyone understand words, but not everyone understands the feelings put into those words. One can put so much effort into choosing the word and fit it in the jigsaw puzzle of the sentence, yet no one can see the emotions. How we have arms, how we hug with those arms, how we ave small arm extensions after, enabling us to clasp a pen, to write to a probably long forgotten person now remembered, how we can use them to pleasure, to amuse, and curse. Use them also, to wipe the tears off their faces; off your loved ones' faces, how we can hold their hands, how you held my hands, walked me through my deepest fears and diced off the tentacles of the thoughts who cling unto me. How we have a stomach; to some it is an orifice, to others, it is an abyss of nothing. They starve for they think they're not beautiful, or just the probable thought of nothing being able to fill them because of the aperture in the centre, towards the left of the heart. Knees, they bend because they're joints, they help us walk and discover, but they're weak, they're like iron; tough but able to rust. Weak. Weak. Weak. You loved me when I was weakest, you now deserve every bit of me at my best. Feet, feet extensions, to many serving no purpose, but to one with no hands, they're thankful, but I forget. We forget. 

I love the idea of boys, how they're the same yet different. Like anyone, they need water, air and food to survive. They get hurt by words and drown when they cannot swim. They've shoulders that are so much wider and hair so much shorter; I've always loved girls with hairdos so short it scared people, and boys with hair so long, people laugh. Those are my favourite sorts because they're different. I like anything discrepant from social norms. I love how boys have large hands, slim fingers, skinny, scrawny, muscular, anything. I like the idea of boys. I like the idea of how they're different yet the same. I like how they're the same yet different.

I like the idea of many things and I can't quite put them into words anymore.

kisses to whoever made this

                      

                             

                                 

                                 

                                    

             

                                

                                      

                                        

Write drunk edit sober

                                    

“My name is Ernest Miller Hemingway. I was born on July 21, 1899. My favorite authors are Kipling, O. Henry and Steuart Edward White. My favorite flower is lady slipper and tiger lily. My favorite sports are trout fishing, hiking, shooting, football and boxing. My favorite studies are English, zoology and chemistry. I intend to travel and write.” 

— Ernest Hemingway, Age 9.

amour platonique

nothing makes me a happier me than when i am with you. when i am with you, i feel like a better person, like there was nothing bad in this world.

i spend time everyday envisaging of us in the future. i want to get a ticket with you to nowhere in particular, we can be on backpack, with a coat, a shirt and a pair of socks in it, some cash, and each other. upon reaching our destination, we can rent a car, don't care, get a full tank of gas, and drive about. we can take turns. or not. we can do whatever you want. we can stop at a fast food joint after a whole day of travelling and get our favourite burgers, i can almost hear you screaming, "omg im so hungry i can eat you up now", adopting the adorable persona that you turn to all the time. after which, we can look for a motel, and it'll be fine when we realise that there are no more rooms left, because we've got that car, drive downtown to an open field; the grass is dampened with dew and i grumbled. i didnt want to get my hair wet. so you laid first, and told me to lie on you and there we lay under that constellation of stars as we fall into an indistinct dream.

it did not matter where we went, it did not matter what we had to do to make it through, and it definitely did not matter what we did not have as long as it is each other that we do. i often find myself frightened at the thought that you love me for the person i mould myself to be because i can be anything you want me to be. i am afraid that you love the me which i want you to see. i am scared to death, because i know i would run out and what happens when i do? i certaintly cannot imagine what will happen if you rid me of you. "vice versa" came the answer, "i won't ever get rid of you!" i protested,

"vice versa", said you.

i am so in love right now 

occurrences

felt the need to write. felt the need to talk about what is going on in my real life. 

real life? 

school has been going up the steep steep slope of one of the steepest mountain that I've seen in the aspect of education, I didn't remember myself studying this hard and paying this much of attention. thinking back to 4 years ago, what I did was zilch as compared to the effort put it now. I sincerely do hope that all these will sow great seeds, and I know for sure that hope will not disappoint. 

did I mention how much I dislike kids? actually I don't but its just went they get so noisy and curious about everything, it's when I feel like stuffing all their heads into dustbins, and pulling them out only after they've paid for (what I perceive) as their annoyance. 

random thought but remember when your parents were your very own superheroes? I do and they still probably are. however I just realized the grotesque of the society we live in now because we try to shun and shove our parents away at every opportunity. it's sad, if I have one wish that I can wish for, that'd be for everyone to never ever grow up because growing up introduces us to emotions which we have never felt before. emotions and feelings that kills us.

but the comfort comes when we know that we are not our feelings. 

elsewhere

everyone is angry. everyone is tired. everyone is restless. everyone is so far away.

people move in orbits that are so distant from each other.

we chase after temporal, silly, material happiness. not sure if it is because of the fast paced life that one leads in the city of singapore, or is the very nature of humans ourselves, that we do really think we can find true happiness and joy in the money we are going to earn, that we are going to find joy in the material wealth which is brought about by the money that we get from toiling and working, and having no time for emotional indulgence, doing things that actually make you really blithe, such as spending time with a loved one, shopping or simply eating a slice of chocolate cake from a nearby coffee joint which you have not had the opportunity nor the permission of time to go to these days. you get on board the train and look around, everyone is on their phones; checking e-mails, watching movies and videos and so on. yet, no one bothers to observe and look around and see the atrocity of the whole scene and also, not allowing themselves the disgust that one has to feel after having saw the state of the train. what each carriage in the train carries are not humans, it is zombies. we are all the same, with the thirst for success, money, and all things that will fade. we forget to look for the more exigent things such as happiness, relationships and also showing care and concern to the people that need it.

go into the toilet in a shopping centre and you see ladies touching up/ putting on make up to carry what they deem themselves as ugly, but do not see how ugly it is an act of everyone to want to look essentially like each other. with each bit of powder placed to cover blemishes on the faces of the women, inside they are screaming, would somebody actually notice the grotesque of this whole ritual? yet no one does, so no one says a thing, so no change occurs. if we would only take a step back and realise how beautiful we all are, maybe we would be happier.

there are so much more to life. marvel at how the birds fly unchallenged, and enjoying every bit of their flight. they do not strive for the food that will fill them but yet they are filled. look at the fishes and aquatic animals in places like america and canada that are prone to "winter" in the sense of a negative degree temperature, yet when the waters freeze they do not panic, and do not die. they are so adapted to their surrondings, without any additional preservatives that we humans use. we are such ugly creatures. we ruin ourselves. and it is not okay to think that it is okay.