Fuck the Moment

A Moment
Action: Check friendster. Click. Load. Click. Gaze.

I love that tattoo. I can still feel my lips brush against it, with my fingers tracing round. And suddenly I smell that familiar tinge of sweat, Hugo Boss and musk rising from e hollow of your neck.

Action: Click. Close friendster. Click

Blame it on the night and pounding nerves.

Hand Over Eyes
One is clearest about one's own condition. Before you get an anxiety attack, you know what it is. When you hear voices you know what they are. When your eyes dart aimlessly around a room, you know what you see. So why do you have your hand over eyes? Shielding your vision, but allowing for peeps between the cracks of your fingers.
I have suddenly cultivated a liking for shades. Hiding your eyes, they make the world highly visible to you. You see life and look it in the eye, and take in its beauty.
Some say metaphors are dangerous. A single metaphor can give birth to love. Coupled with a single chance, it speaks to you as clear as rain.
Chance and chance alone has a message for us. Everything that occurs out of neccessity, everything expected, repeated day in and day out, is mute. Only chance can speak to us. We read its message much as the gypsies read the images made by coffee grounds at the bottum of a cup
Perhaps that was why I fell, headfirst, into your world. But now that I am outside looking in, I see you with your hand over your eyes. Wandering in your false comfort. An excuse for your being.
I cannot help but wonder if you were as mundane as when I first met you, or whether I was drawn into your false comfort, with your hands shielding my eyes.
Its time to leave you and your perceptions to have my love muted, because I cannot live with an excuse. I pray that my shades will help.
Muss es sein? Es muss sein.

When You're Nineteen
You've spent a year being 19. You've almost stepped out of those teenage, reckless days and you've got one foot into adulthood. And all of sudden, you feel llike an old teenager, your angst for once has reason behind it. Rebellion isn't rebellion anymore. And you find the freedom that you've been fighting for since you were 13. You are more worldly-wise and you've got the schoomoze now.
Issues which didn't matter, now do. And you've got your sneak-peek into the Future. Better yet, you'e sociable, you're educated, intelligent and young. But you've got your heart in a mess, emotionally estranged and struggling. When once in your whole teenage years, its aligned with your head, you lose that delicate balance. The scary thing is, suddenly, you're not the ABBA dancing queen anymore. You are not 17 when it doesn't matter. You're 19 when commitment takes on a turn, where deep in the reccesses of your soul, your actions and choices are deliberate.
Your independance and strength can sometimes tire you out, there are days when you feel like you can conquer the world, and somedays when you feel as deflated as a wet balloon. Spiritually, you're such a beautiful prodigal child of God's.
What can be sweeter, you 19 year old you? ;-)

Care-less Breeze
Finally, the semester has drawn to an end. The horrors of PR, IMC has come to a close. -FIngers Crossed for Tuesday- Heheh. But its good enough tt we got into the Top 5 I guess, but it doesn't matter because its over. Again I repeat the cliche: Time Flies. Looking forward to our 1T08 bash already -Looks expectantly and Marcus and Saharah- ;-)
So its time for to do a little mugging for Massina since we got NAPFA over and done with in typical Mass Comm fashion. I can't wait to roam Nevada for two weeks, it'll be a sweet break and a breath of fresh air.
One more semester to go and it seems horribly real.
The hols call for lotsa tanning, raunchy-drama bbqs, girly talk and time to myself away from the world. The Future looks sweet.

Little Pieces
And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
How can you mend a this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.

Lau Pa Whaaa?!
2am Last Night
Eunice: Whooohooooo!!!!! I laugh in the face of Adobe!!! I did it, I did the bloody Octogen!!!!
Geneva: Wtf? okok calm down woman, we're going mad.
3am Last Night
Eunice: -Lies in bed feeling impending doom-
11am Today
-Phone Rings, Random people call-
Eunice: -murmurs and rolls back to sleep-
1pm Today
Eunice: Oh shit, I hope I dun have SARS, oh shit oh shit.
-sleeps, sweats, coughs, sneezes, sweats, sleeps-
7pm-1am Today
Geneva: Aye, I think you're the Octogen queen *Laments about food prints*
Eunice: Eat Sai la
Geneva: There's an octogen-shaped diamond, bla bla bla
Eunice: -faints-