Sometimes, when I'm blogging halfway, I decide to send it as an email instead. That's a super nice feeling. The other way round is a sad feeling. Blogging is like talking to yourself cos nobody wants to listen to your crap.

my dear, i feel quite empty and displaced. read my blog archives and was reminded i used to have dreams. daydreams. about the world and everything. now i really just seek instant gratification, always wanting to live through the next few weeks. even with nothing to look forward to beyond that. well, there are sparse and fleeting comforting moments like during cf. i wonder whether things will be the same when i go back to sg. i wonder whether i'm missing what people are chasing every day. i fear long relationships cos i'm afraid one day they'll find i have nothing to offer.

I'm sorry I'm apathetic. I'm sorry I don't care about Tibet, or US presidential elections, or where the hell is Mas Selamat. I am pro-life because of my paedophilic love for babies and little children. I support lgbt rights because of my not-so-esoteric taste for the queer. (I'm kidding)

Remember we used to sit on the steps and look at the sky? I forgot what we were talking about. But I remember the heat of the night, the moistness on our backs, the contentment of our sighs, our naievty towards the future.

Because I age exactly the same rate here and at home, I don't feel like going home.