I think I’m going to be mute for awhile.

But let me just speak my peace for five sentences.

If boys were honest and they didn’t play around just because their willies were itchy,

then things wouldn’t get complicated in the first place.

Instead, we girls get blamed for causing drama because we talk too much.

So what’s the solution.

Snip off the guy’s penis

and chop off the girl’s tongue,

and all will be well.

Kudos to maintaining world peace.

P.S. Happy Merdeka Day, btw.



Do I really have to make a decision that I really don’t want to

even though I know it’s probably the right one. For now.

It sucks to be in two places at one time.

Hope and Denial aren’t exactly best of friends.

Contemplating and ruminating is making me sick

but I don’t deserve to be treated like this.

I just don’t want to have regrets

but knowing me, that’s unavoidable.


Now the joke’s on me.

How freaking ridiculously ironic is that.

You know how I’ve mentioned that I laugh at other people’s ‘tragedies’.

Well yes, the feeling of guilt swept in.

You know the gutted feeling somewhere between your stomach and liver.

It’s like I’m happy that the other person’s not doing so well

and it becomes a sick joke and all to me.

But when I stare at the screen and think through about what I’m happy about.

It doesn’t suit my appetite so well.

It hits me (that’s when the gutted feeling comes in) and I’m like,

“Wow, I’ve become quite a bitter, mean person, huh?”

Then I try to rationalize this ‘hatred’ I feel towards the individual.

In the end, the most number of reasons I can come up with is two or three

because when I try to come up with reason no. 4,

I realize that this is really not helping me to become a better person.

The funny thing is if that person came back and said that he or she was wrong,

We would instantly kiss, hug and make up for lost time and love.

So maybe there is still hope in this world.

Whether the person will return or not is another story.

So tempted to add another comment.




That is severely embarrassing.

In your face.

And I’m smiling wide and snide again.

Nice one, Ming.

Now I’m the bitch.

I’m the villain.

This is so facked up.

The funny thing is that I rarely demand or make my disapproval so obvious.

And when I do, I’m told to STFU.


I like the way John Mayer looks when he’s playing live.

It’s like he’s having a retardedly cute orgasm.

Well, that’s what I think an orgasm will look like.

Honestly, I really don’t know.

I’m that innocent.