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You say you wander your own land
But when I think about it
I don't see how you can
You're aching, you're breaking
And I can see the pain in your eyes
Says everybody's changing
And I don't know why
So little time
Try to understand that I'm
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same
You're gone from here
Soon you will disappear
Fading into beautiful light
'cos everybody's changing
And I don't feel right
So little time
Try to understand that I'm
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same
So little time
Try to understand that I'm
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same
-- Everybody's Changing by Keane (such snappy tunes!)
i've been drained and tired lately and the scary thing is i don't know where my days are going. time flies and i can't remember what i've been doing where i've been who am i and yet the clock is ticking and time has passed so i must have been somewhere doing something... right? i don't know. i feel like change is everywhere now and it unnerves me and it makes me so angry and hurt and lost and there is a fury and a rage and a silent scream and sometimes i worry i might find myself like mr solanka, haunted by the thought that i might be the one murdering young girls with a piece of concrete-- only it'll really be me. and the victims won't be socialite girls, it'll be you for not understanding, you you you and you for the 17 july snub, you for displacement, you for the lies the fiction and honestly how dumb do you think i am? you and you for not caring not wanting to ask what happened why and come to think of it you too. yes. you.
i think my bitterness and spite far surpasses anything else now. and coming onto the internet only worsens everything because sometimes, voyeurism just ain't all that. i just feel like shutting myself off and telling everyone to just go away and leave me alone and no, i don't really care anymore-- but of course the social whore in me still jumps at every chance to go out (watch my tail wag! i can fetch the stick for you sir, if you only let me!)
maybe i'm being callous or spiteful or petty or really, option d, all of the above, but all these little things little details when inflicted all at once have just made me, well, pissed with the lot of you. and if you have a niggling feeling that you actually might be the you mentioned above high chance is that you're probably right. (now all you have to do is figure out which crime you are maligned with. -cheery beam- that's easy enough, init?)
and before you place comments like, is it me? or i'm sorry, don't. firstly no, you're not, and secondly, no, you're not. thirdly, for god's sake, look at diction, damn it.
as a detached and perfectly rational and absolutely non-cryptic aside, (for we are nothing if not creatures of pure unadulterated sanity), i have many books to clear. and i am fat again.
she took the flowers and left at 5:11 PM
erm, does anyone out there who used to/still is in a symphonic band or chinese orchestra know if their ex/current band needs a xylophone? i've got one to sell (long story), great condition, good as new.
she took the flowers and left at 3:55 AM
dO nOT hUNT tHE bUNNIES
because i bizarrely really liked the picture of rukia that i drew, i made a [depressive] blog layout out of it. go me. and
look-- so many
shades of grey! and the font used on the separator is goodbye cruel world. isn't this just a basketful of sunshine.
depressive header title is the title of the instrumental theme that plays in the episode where rukia
leaves karakura for soul society.
kuchiki rukia is from the manga/anime series Bleach and belongs to Kubo Taito, yo. art belongs to meMeME.
cURRENTLY iNGESTING: Ulysses, James Joyce
sQUARE pEG
ai is a struggling and penniless university student alternating her time between humid ol singapore, and freezing |
sweltering* york, england. she has finally hit the big two-oh, and everyday she weeps and beats her breast, and sighs, and
heaves, and cries herself to sleep for the wild and feckless youth she never had. she now spends her time wondering about
authors and readers and texts, and how they all annihilate each other. she's had a pleasant life, the one we've all had,
filled to the brim with the love of absent things. (she also loves alfian sa'at's poetry, in case you hadn't noticed.) if you
think you can make her toes laugh, or if this blog has been your secret guilty pleasure, do feel free to find her at hotmail or yahoo
(*delete in
accordance to season)
rOUND hOLES
a-squared (group blog)
alanna
alfian sa'at (O_O)
alvin
angie
april
bean
christie and cuifen
count olaf
darth vader (roxors!)
esther
en qi
foxed
grace
history girl
jiamin
jing jing
The One Who Thinks I Hate Her
kelvin
ling
louis
min
natalie
pak
pei lin
pepper
pooh
raining
shaRon
victoria
wee zi
xingyi
eVERYTHING sPARKLY
10k commotion
the adventures of pudding
arcana
average jane
babochka
demonology 101
desert rocks
directions of destiny
golden
i harth darth
lapis aquae
luke chueh
Melody
the new adventures of bobbin
No Rest for the Wicked
OrientR
the perry bible fellowship
the powerpuff girls doujinshi
reman mythology
saturnalia
schism
sea of insanity
sinfest
Soul-d
The Students' Sketchpad
square brain
potter puffs!
zero sleep beauty
zombies calling
big top
zits
heart of the city
tHE gREEN fAIRY
potter puppet pals
online comics directory
j k rowling
lemony snicket
aBSENT pRESENCES
past deeds of unspeakable pain and terror
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