I can't tweet about these, I can't tell anybody too. The only way I can do is write them out, and try to save myself a little.

Mommy came into my room earlier, and she asked what's wrong with you, you haven't been talking, you are not happy anymore, did something happened these couple of days? And I lost it, I was on the verge of tears. After all, she's the most important person to me on earth, and I'd wanted nothing less than her worrying over me.

"I'm fine." Are you cold? Are you tired? Is it because you've been spending too much time in school? 

I went to the bathroom and cried. Everybody's worried for me, they tried to make me open up, they approached me, they fought hard for my smile. They don't know that I'm living for them. 

It hurts like fuck. He fucking played me out. I wish he didn't lay those hands on me, those filthy hands that violated other girls. I wish he never come close to me again. I wish I never have to see him again.

Everyday, I force myself to wake up to living hell. And go to school. That's the worst part. I know that there are people who need me. I know they will be worried if I ever cry infront of them. So I keep pretending. I avoided whenever I can, I smiled and I did stupid things, I cracked lousy jokes like I always do just so that they feel more comfortable knowing that the chirpy and lively girl is still there. 

Do you know how hard it is for me to wake up these days and convince myself that I can make it? I can't. 

She has been talking to me for the past two nights, it surprises me who i can actually turn to in time of pain. She told me he's just lonely, he just wants to feed on attention, he never did love you, or her, or anyone else. They will get karma for hurting you. But i know they won't. I don't know if there's really karma. Why am i always the one hurt?

She said he's worried about you. Everyone is. The stronger your front, the more worried they are. Tell them what's hurting you, tell them what they did to you. But how can I, where do I begin from?

He wouldn't let me disappear, and I know I will, I have to stop living for others.

It hurts me that he's worried, and he tried to make me speak up, but I lied to him. They wouldn't understand. They aren't the ones waking everyday to an ache in their chest, and having to believe that everything will be fine. It's hell, it's like walking on flames and putting on a smile.

It hurts so bad.

I don't ever want to come back.

Monday, 1:58a.m

These days, I'm on Tumblr a lot. I guess that's where I'll always be at. I stopped blogging for my fashion blog because coursework is over. How do I put my life in retrospective again? It makes me cry just typing like this again, fuck, look at what I'm doing to myself. 

I met a boy. And I fell in love. It wasn't perfect like I've always visioned my love to be, honey. It was hard, and it continues to be. Loving him makes me want to give up a million and one times, it's hard because my love, you're part of the reason why my heart is breaking. He's an optimist, beautiful and courageous. 

I guess I'll still come back to write again. And no, we aren't in a relationship, not officially yet, at least. I break his heart every single time you come back into my mind as a past memory. It's almost a year. I wonder if you look at the gift and think of it, I wonder if you should chuck him away while you empty your contents, throw away every single bit of our memories. No, I still keep all your things with me. I just want to learn to be brave again. 

I had a dream and in the dream I was betrayed by my best friend and when I woke up, my heart was quivering because even as a dream, it scared me so. I kept a little diary, because it was so hard to love someone so right. In the little black book, I write about him, and you, but mostly I write about how happy he makes me, when he makes me cry, I pen it down too. 

Her heart is broken and in pieces. I want to do something about it too, but I realize I don't know how. He needs me to trust him, and I've to stay strong for someone so precious. It's late and I have assignments to work on. Sometimes I wish you'll come back again. I just don't know when you will. Maybe you'll never, and I won't hold a grudge against you, too. 

Tumblr is precious to me because it gives you bits and pieces and remnants of who the person is through what h/she reblogs. I love fashion/I love words/I have a wild child snuggling/I crave love/I'm broken and in pieces/I'm hurt/But I'm hopeful

http://vanitydolls.tumblr.com/

Happy Birthday

Happy 19th Birthday my love.

I'm sorry I couldn't be there.
I'll never get to say this to you in person.

Be happy. Live well.

Invite me to your performance one day, a long time from now.

I loved you so.

I'm back

It's been so long since I last typed on this space.
I think I've fallen for my flower boy, ten months away from you.
This time round, it almost feels real.

I call it second chance. 

He makes me insecure and frightened, even.
They say, "He's good, but not the right guy for you."
You can't stop a wanderer from wandering 

Frightened because he makes me happy 
But what if I'm not supposed to be.

I'm afraid that I might have really fallen
I wonder if it's real

These days, I've been happy.
And I really do wish to come back to this space to type again

How I look like in class 

How I look like when class finally ends 

-> hehe that's my favorite friend at the back, 

looking ditzy as always! ^.^ love her! 

I've a new blog, do you know?
No, I can't type thoughts on it, it's for others
But I'm starting to like the happy me, do you know? 

But I spent the tenth month with him,
and for once,
I wasn't crying on a day like this

I didn't have to reminisce you.

I want to see you again
No matter how long it takes
And maybe then I'll know
Our love is real

And yes,
my hair grew long
And I love people who tell me I'm beautiful at the points of my life
When I have the lowest self esteem

I love them for teaching me how to be happy

Catcalls

November 13, 2012 

Dear Blog, it's unusual that I'm penning this frequently but baffling things happened on the twelfth and it prompted me to write. I realize I wrote weird twice (unusual, baffling) and I'm bad at spelling twelfth. Firstly, despite having so little sleep I still managed to wake up at 7am for school and what's extraordinary is that there really isn't class, just an interview to conduct. I headed to the Library after a good breakfast and I fell asleep. I made my way to the second lesson. 

A guy came up to me and he went Hi, I'm lost. Do you know how I can get to Disneyland? Dear blog, I wish you know what a klutz I am, I actually didn't get him the first time and Excuse Me? I doubted. Disneyland he said calmly. I gave a shy smile and quickly went along my way. I thought I was safe but another came up to me and that was a pretty straight-laced young man. "Hi, I think you're cute. I'm Zann. Is it possible if I get to know you?" I reckon there's many Zanns around and it's okay to name. I thought that Monday was weird and once again, I gave an awkward smile and walked off. 

Dear Blog, I wish I read this some time in the future and still feel apprehensive about my unusual Monday encounters. I've had confessions like other eighteen year old girls, but pick up lines are . . . just unusual. I apologize for the lack of appropriate terms but yes, that's the best way I could describe, really. 

Pretty girls often receive confessions and attention from guys but look, I'm just me. Nobody ever pays attention to me because I don't speak up and I don't voice out and I don't seek to be the centre of attention. Maybe what I encountered was something that happens in the daily lives of pretty girls. But when it happened on me, it just scared me a little and made things seem . . . unusual. 

Dear Blog, and as I was saying, I had such a long Monday. I stayed back after my second lesson which was really four hours long for a project discussion. I was craving for food and long bus rides in the cold chilly weather. Food . Long Bus Rides . Food . Long Bus Rides . Food . Long Bus Rides . My mind chanted. I reached home late, definitely, had a quick warm bath and snuggled in bed fast. And by that I hope you know that I meant I conveniently missed dinner and I just woke up by omission. 

I read something I shouldn't even have but it was inevitable and I really just want to cry again. That was evidence of what I typed yesterday; Sad people hiding their grief just to feel okay again. Or rather, from personal experience, that's really not hiding, it's avoiding. It's focussing on what's good than what's bad. Remember how I tell you that my days are good again? I think it's working fine. 

I think I'm just a little depressed that I can't get to meet the people I really love being with (more than many others I suppose) because I've a major presentation coming up but still I'm trying to make time for a Wednesday dinner with them and I'm seeing them on Thursday and Saturday as well so that's not too long either way. I also wish that I won't ever forget mentioning that I feel a little frightened every time we are together because it makes me happy and thrilled and I know my happiness never last. I just hope that when the past memories come back again, I'm alone and not with them. I never want happy bunnies to be affected. 

Dear Blog, it's a little long post again but one of the more meaningful posts in awhile, yesterday and today. I think I'll try to distract myself by doing something else. Goodnight. 

The last couple of photos I'd taken the other day. 
Goodnight & Sweet Dreams. 

Collarbones and Forgetfulness

November 12, 2012 

Dear Blog,

It's 2:01am on my laptop and I know that it's three minutes slower and seventeen minutes faster on my phone. I'm biting on a red apple as I'm typing and I coyly asked for a chilled green apple at work earlier but eventually refused the invitation. I've been listening to sad songs lately and people commented on my choice of music. I chanced upon a profile of some guy that looks like him and it's heart over mind again but eventually I stopped myself. Dear Blog, these days, I start to remember things again.

I hope I don't read this again some time in the future and feel sorry for myself. Don't get me wrong, I've been having happy days. The past two Fridays were horrid though: I vomited and the previous one, I was very late for a 10% test that I did study hard for.

It was vanity over food and I was wearing my favorite knit in coral. Bad things always happen on days when I am wearing my favorite outfit I hate it.

Dear Blog, look I've been typing like this ever since my book and I got inseparable. The novel goes by the name of The Perks of being a Wallflower. I'm halfway through my novel in just two days time but that's nothing to boast about since I've begun to read it on rides to school, buffer times during work; anytime, anywhere. I came across this term "a nice kind of quiet" and I bothered myself about it a lot. I tried beef again and by that I meant I ordered beef on my own and I actually do like it. I've always hated trying beef and that made me think of him again. I wonder what chocolate we had. I think sometimes I buy strawberry milk on purpose and strawberry lollipops on purpose but let's not go there now.

I saw my ex best friend again and it was bad. We used to spend all our time together but now I can't even bring myself to look at her face and it angers me thinking of her betrayal. I think she has grown into a filthy slut and I really do hate her very much now.

I get to see many kids at work too. I wonder if anyone actually dotes on me when I was little. I remember myself being the quiet sulking kid at every gathering. Or maybe I'm lovable and cute and I just can't remember a thing now. These days, I keep remembering things I don't wish to. The lady says she will head back to France in February and I feel so happy for her though I'll really miss her when the day comes. But she will finally be with her husband and her son and her mom and that makes me feel very happy for her.

Dear Blog, I wish I didn't know how much he loves her and that he can't move on; I wish my sister didn't use his perfume time and again without asking; I wish it didn't rain that morning; I wish I didn't have to go to work and could hide in my big yellow blanket and sleep till dawn. Maybe then I wouldn't have woken up in tears this morning and reminded myself how long he's gone and how far we've travelled away from each other and how I'm really doing fine without him without thinking of him. 

Dear Blog, I've been writing about a boy who matters to me and I even think I do have actual feelings for him. I guess when you really like someone, you allow him to hold your hand. I wish I could go to him like I always do but I can't. You don't know how bad it is to stay away but I have to. I think if I continue convincing myself that it's alright to not hang around this much, I could really feel that way. And I wish my flower boy is happy now that he has found her and I wish she never hurts him again. I wish he will never be sad because they make such a cute couple so please don't. I wish I could tell someone how much I really hate him raising his voice at me all the time, even when he promises not to do it again. I think I've begun to bear a grudge and it's making me angry all over again. I hope I can help relieve him of his heartache but every time I think of the way he raises his voice it makes me upset and I really don't know how to. 

Dear Blog, I wonder why would anyone ever raise their voice at others when they've done absolutely nothing wrong. I thought that's the most horrid thing ever. I really do hate it. I hate people who do that.  But it's peculiar too that I can't bring myself to hate him now that he's become an important element in my life too. I reckon he doesn't ever know and it's okay too, I won't want to tell him that verbally it's awkward. 

Dear Blog, I wonder if it's normal penning this much, playing a sad song on an endless track and having tears scald the back of my eyes. I think I am really thrilled to be hosting an event and I really do mean every word of it. Recently, I came up with a conclusion that sad people are really just experiencing coerced amnesia, a term that I came up with and I hope it does sound sound. We make ourselves not remember things but little details could surface and everything comes back again and we fall apart and all these happiness we painstakingly built up comes crumbling down. I think I shouldn't continue going on about this topic; it makes me vulnerable.

Dear Blog, I actually signed off as Lady♥ it is so weird but I guess people will understand the moniker. I'm actually hoping that I do too. I'm happy that my school blog has so many views and that it's doing great now and I'm complimented for my effort so I reckon I should feel happy. 

I think all these is enough for a night and I ought to head to bed. 

The girl with the bunny pigtails ♥