Dear Diary (Part 1)

Hi Diary,

I’m drained. Work ended, headed home for a hasty bath, settled down for a quick dinner and group mates asked of me to get on Skype for PR Discussion. Shoving the dishes down the sewers and chucking my trash carelessly, all the while distracted by my demanded physical presence. Thank god, I found time to blog again. I’ve to though, there are deep insights today I’d like to note down. One day when I’ve amnesia, please remind me, somebody, that I do have a blog.

Job’s great, what’s not to like, honestly? There’s Kinokuniya, nice fashion boutiques, a food outlet just next door and staffs who don’t care about sales. It wouldn’t be apt to say that I’m a wordsmith, but I do love books.  I have a great passion for words, poetry, literature prose and practically everything that has to do with “A-Z”. I might be bad at many things: I can’t count, I have an almost zilch sense of eq, I can’t do science; people always assert that I’m nothing but an airhead bimbo.

Every time I enter a bookstore, I wish I could spend my entire life cooped inside with warm coffee and marshmallows dipped in chocolate, reading novel after novel, sieved into the beautiful stories that every capable author comes up with.

I had alone time to myself today, and that calmed me, a lot. I ate lunch alone and window-shopped at Bugis Streets after work, alone. Usually, the entire ‘loneliness’ affair scares me; after all, I’m really just a highly dependent kid. But I managed to, surprisingly, cleared my thoughts about things that I usually couldn’t ‘cause of the ruckus of the people around me. It was an emotional release.

In a jostling crowd with not one familiar face, I experienced the feeling of being ‘lost and to have disappeared’. I know, I’m an enigma and people use the word “mysterious” on me when they’re interested to decipher me as a person. I’ve been tied down by all these worldly demands, sometimes I wonder, for whom am I living for?

“How do you fall in love with someone you can’t feel beautiful with?”

I’m not merely talking about looks; it’s probably something that a little powder and a dash of blush could work magic on. To be beautiful is to feel irreplaceable, to feel in place with the person you envision a future with, to not constantly feel inferior and uptight; you don't have to be constantly afraid that one mistake might catapult into bigger, catastrophic events that will steal him away from you. To be beautiful is to feel loved by the person you love so deeply.

So, how then, do you call it love, when he can’t make you feel beautiful?

“How do you wake up every morning and tell yourself that maybe, this will be the day, you’ll meet into some mishap and lose your memory? How do you open your eyes to a new day, only to wish harm upon yourself?”

The pain in my heart area is back. I haven’t been drinking since, my birthday? Which was 2 weeks ago bitch heart. I can’t help the pressure alright, Please don’t amount to my medical condition ‘cause I really can’t afford to delay any datelines, miss any presentation, and what’s not. Let’s do this together heart.

“She’ll be a better girlfriend than I can. I’m not enough, I’m too broken to be offered to you.”

Typed this post when I’m so tired and sleepy but I’m so afraid I’d forget everything that’s meaningful to me when I awake in a while.  

Please do rain tonight if you love to, sky.