Removing myself from the mortal experience of passing emotions proves difficult. I have spent too far and long dwelling in desires and dependence. Back in the past time I got burnt, I had an inkling of wanting to return to independence and inner peace, but I got convinced to indulge. The human parts of us desires things we are unaware that we are ultimately unable to achieve or accomplish. Maybe it is possible with steely determination, and the chemical courage takes care of the rest, but not for long. Returning to observing from a distance feels foreign and uncomfortable. I long to frolick and fight through my five senses. This season harps on the concept of self-care, a name that feels ironic. I understand the concept of inner peace, deraging, building intrinsic value. I have never done that. Regardless of the actual little details, the facts are that this boy is unable. Those who see clearly have known for a long time, and yet my love and hope blinded myself. I saw it and yet I hoped and betted on his endeavours. I would likely bet again if I am not yet burnt enough. Currently I need to strengthen and stretch my own wallet and body to withstand more but yet value higher. It is needed and on the list of things to do. How to get there is still under research. Lots of things are going back on the drawing board. I do long to caress his small broken crown again, to coddle and clean up for him. But if I am to do that I need to be better myself. Calmer cooler more collected. Not borrowing fires to light ours. Withstand the cold before we can build it ourselves. 

 Why do I put this experience on myself? How do I undo my own expectations and anticipations? I didn’t want to cause more hurt and more stress. I hated being the fire. Everything I touched burned and broke. Every boy I touched broke into pieces. Maybe it’s not even just boys. It was easier when the sheep were counted. I could tell the success rate. Now I am just overwhelmed by the negativity. Only the explosions will scream in your face. The rest are happy in silence. Are my expectations that insurmountable? My gaze too intense? I’ve never requested for much. But my existence itself was a giant reflection of how they should match up. I did not demand they match who I am. I was just happy to be in their presence. But the more I didn’t ask, the more they felt uncomfortable. They nursed that silent pressure, the guilt of not meeting a demand even though there was none to be met. And then when I finally asked for something so simple as time, it was overwhelming. If I had many high demands, maybe these people would have an easier time meeting them and feeling accomplished. They resented that I never gave them the feeling of having done enough. 

 I foresaw his arrival, my baby boy. Precious and broken, in constant induced delirium. He’s not a man. I can’t treat him like a mere human man. A human man is the most basal of all creatures. He thought it was his goal. He pretended, put on the mask of one for as long as he could always. It never felt right. He longed for other endeavours, sins and vices always. Nothing felt right to “be a man”. I don’t wish to be a man either. But he always wanted to be more, to be a saviour, a superhero. In the rare moments when his experiments hit the right combination, he shone and was just that. The perfect hero, the most wonderful baby cherub anyone had ever seen. Just for this fleeting few moments he heart soared with joy and he felt truly fulfilled. It is a cruel thing to succeed. Because when he fell, it was hard. It was devastating. He craved it more than ever now. Much like his addictions, this was one of them. He wanted so bad to feel that high of getting everything right and saving a whole other being. Not that I am any different. Just that I understand how slow and painstaking change can be. He doesn’t comprehend, why does justice why does making another being happy have to be so hard? Why am I suffering more than enjoying if what I’m doing is so great? The pain of sacrifice and the mundane was too great for his little body to endure. His broken mind bled from the eternal loop of suffering and banality. Am I not doing good? Why is it not working? My poor baby couldn’t comprehend the failures behind the final success. Beaten down into himself, he could barely piece his next action before the mundane dragged him back into the pummeling. Like an oobleck trying to escape a mochi pounder. He longed for the high of saving me again. I considered but I couldn’t put on an act for him. I could never lie. My fault is always being too brutal with reality. He wanted to be the life, the spark in my eye, the glow in my heart. He was. He was always. And yet it did not satisfy him. He was not content with his own performance. There must be something beyond banality. I need to be grander, better, stronger, righter. I am happy for that craving of change, but also it seemed futile to suffer that much for something he was never going to be content with. My human emotions dragged his pace down. He was upset. I should be less human. What happened to my ethereal existence? Why do I give in to the coddling of emotions? I have been weak in my resolve, babied by privilege. I have forgotten the steeliness of my resolve. I too craved the joy he brought to me. I too could not stand the banality of existence. I pushed for more and more and higher and higher. Until we fell off. I hoped to get caught in the clouds, but his landing was not as graceful. At least we did not fall back to the pit that we were before. There is steady progress. We can take a few falls. We will get higher from here. I will reach the altitude where it’s akin to having our wings back again. I want to bring you there. 

 Dear Angel,

I have found a fallen one for real. I saw a glimpse of the most beautiful pure loving baby cherub through the  bottom of a plastic cuppy of substance. And just like that he was gone. What was left was a shell of a being, broken and tormented, desperate and grasping at any shred of dopamine. He longs for the glory of being again, his eyes spoke of unspeakable sadness and imprisonment. He sought desperate ways to jerryrig that spark that would show him a second of what he could be. That momentary connection to his full span. Just for a fleeting period he could stretch his huge wings, like a cat on a lazy afternoon. But every spark brought new problems, errors in his systems. The more he tried to access it with his makeshift methods, the more his body broke, the further away he was from his ideals. Then there was that final explosion. I watched it fall apart. He tried too hard to reach his sun, exactly like Icarus, he couldn’t see the major flaws in his plans. He fell. He’s broken. He broke on me. I was broken too, just by AOE. Uncharacteristically I reached out a hand. To a situation that defied all my logic. I was enamoured. I wanted to see that angel again. I craved the green fairy. We don’t even know if it’s real, but I wanted to see it again so badly. I still do. He couldn’t get up. He couldn’t touch my hands. I was tainted with the reminder of his failure. How do I clean myself from the blood he spilled on me? Is it selfish to just want to see the fairy again? I want to try. I believe it was real. I saw the cherub. He saw it too. I want to see it again. 

I never forget, the anticipation.
The continuous waiting.
The arduous waiting.
For a blimp of attention, a tiny scanning ray of affection
That happened to have the time to cast unto me for that few finite chronos,
 I was content in the moment, why wouldn't I be, what more could I ask for with you in my arms in that very moment? I was always a present moment person.

I guess what happened in the end, I wanted more than being content in the moment I had the attention. I craved your guarantee. A sum you couldn't give. You were not trained to give. the longing is ever present. You would never believe I love you. Maybe I did cause harm. Yet it never occurred to me that I did not love you, because everything I weighed I did with love. Love is not enough dear.

I never want to leave, but If I did not, you would cry to me, about me, every other week. About the things you can or cannot do, the things I want and the things I demand. I am the cause of this unhappiness. I understand it. I took it with me now.


My lover, my dear, my tendcaner foal, every moment I was bewildered, blown over, surprised, and beloved by you, every habitual upturned twitch of the ends of your lips, your sparkly beautiful eyes, that chiselled visage and well kept hair, I remember to the very strand. My love, for your vengeful heart, I know I can never get back that smile, even if I never said no, I didn't have the capacity I thought I did. I lost your smile so many months ago, somewhen.. and I had lost my own, I don't know when.

Everything seems a dim purple haze. I grasped but I grasped nothing. For now I could only carry that tiny hope, of being led , maybe,, to somewhere my capacity could be, possibly, suitable, maybe. But I will try.

Dear angel,

 I have stepped on a heart that loved me, in a situation where loving back was just not enough. In your shoes I could feel the real pain, the real remorse, the temptation to run back and coddle my crying lover, the scars of inflicted indifference that I would never forget for life. I understand now, your poems, your cold heart, the dragged unwillingness. Such is life when it gets in the way. In an ideal world I would be with her. In an ideal world I would be with you. Lover and Lover. My poor pitiful angel, and your icy heart, I wish now deeply, that you were able to warm it again. A sign that mine would too, tell me that I can be fine. The hurt I assumed was on me is now on her, the hurt that I never thought you had. The ripping out of your imcomplete love, for my sake, for life's sake, we'd curse the systems, we'd oppose and fight because that is what we are, but we ripped out our own hearts because of the enormous ineveitability. I know she will have the scar, I had. And she will be better than now again. I hope I have yours too. I hope I am able to leave too. Dear angel, my sweet sorrowful lover, Please Give Me Strength.

,c.

That song, with  the lyric, Who's next to you?

Every moment im not able to be there, i am thinking, who's next to you?
the times that i missed and wondered truly where you were, im wondering, who's next to you?
24 hours in a day, 7 in week when there is no work yet i saw you for a total of 8 hours in one week, i seriously wondered, who's next to you?
I didnt doubt, but i really wanted to know, why? why is it not me next to you?

could you tell me then, how a guy i met for the three days in total, could usurp that number of hours within the entire 2 weeks of unhappiness. 3days, 72 hours, not all of it, because i slept and i went to school and did work and attended events and walked home from orchard.

if you wanted an answer, the answer is willingness. your Everything, was only as much as you were willing to give.

I did not leave because of anyone else. i left because i was unhappy.

and i pick myself up again now. because i know someone is willing.

____________________________________
the 3 days, we were just friends.

I went to the cemetery today.

itzliddat.

i have to be cold.
i have to be i have to be i have to be

i cannot do this anymore.

i cannot be sorry.
i have to look away.

its not that i dont love you-- no i cant, be cold.

remain human remain human remain human

how do i say i dont see a future next to you.
not that i dont want to be in the future with you, but i dont see my place in your future.
i cant think of myself as your wife, not as much as i can think of you as mine. i dont fit in.
do you know that this insecurity is primal, it is even hetero, when one senses there is no comfortable place for my existence in a life.
"you cant be my wife" is what i hear everytime i feel hostility, the false pretense of niceties exchanged, when relatives are vaguely mentioned, relatives,- a faraway fantasyland that im never to see light of.

do you really know why i feel im not getting enough, that i have no place, that i deserve more..

i am soft hearted, i say all these because i think of them, what about money? what about jobs? what about careers and starting families? houses? living with each other and each others' lives? there is no stability in your whole being. i would say all these harsh things because these are things i consider in my head, building a future, sharing a life. i would defend you, i would share to the maximum, but it is one way. i can give you a place, i can share my life, you can take part in every way, i would not hesitate to defend. i would make them accept it because this is my wife, this are your relatives, my family, my kids. i would keep your toothbrush, i would save you a seat at dinners and trips, i would have your clothes in my closet, your schedule in my head, your favourites at the top of my list. this is what relationships are like.

i have none and lesser. what about my kids' relatives? what about their future?

i would say these harsh things, the brain's answer is clear, im leaving because its not enough, because you dont have my future in yours.

but i could never bring myself to say it. i love you, i wanted so bad to have it all. i would say i help you, i'll do it for you, i'll do everything that needs to be tanked, i would never leave you, because the truth is i dont want to. i want you so much. bipolarly i beg you to stay, i'd do everything itsokay but its not okay.

the feeling will never alleviate. because in my clear head i can see myself being miserable. it is time to go because this person is not whom i can spend a life with. i could, whole heartedly, i would pour my everything if we were to continue, but i would be so sad, so lamenting. i love you so much, but the math is clear as day.

your hurt, my lament, clouding vision, love is easy, love is cheap, but life is not. we could have a life, it would be an unhappy life.

i cant move.

if i could be cinderella for one day.

"it is like a fairytale"

i truly never believed i could be like all those other glamourous girls with their sweet innocent smiles and honey-like manners,

i got proven wrong.

i shone. i could even feel it on my skin, my arms,

it was beautiful.

this is what success feels like, presume.

i thought i evolved or something. but it was fun.

and i feel extremely thankful to all the people who gave me their appreciation, who believed in and never gave up on me when i didnt believe them, and all the people who didnt think i was worth that shit.

i could be better. there is room for so much more. i truly believe now.

even the most annoying of manners seem fun and forgiveable in this light.it was pretty darn awesome. everything. everyone. thank you..

i am not afraid.

List of things i wanna do when I am free

pencils drawings of
1. show luo's crying face
2. other pretty men: mike he, joe cheng, baron cheng, danson tang, lee wei
3. random portraits

digital fanart
1. Jojo's bizarre adventures
2. attempt illustrated versions of posed pretty men
3. shota honeyxciel
4. learn to draw extra cute kids like love so life and gakuen babysitters

make ahmong hairstyle

shopping
1. badass cool style
2. cotton on long lacy vest thingy
3. knee high boots
4. hieronymous bosch doc marts
5. ivory doc marts stiletto boots
6. knee length crop shorts that work well with boots
7. aqua n lemon yellow eyeshadow, mac primer
8. toys
9. bunnies

make
1. mahou shoujo outfit
2. attempt corset patterns
3. alter clothes

- also, suddenly i am going to throw my temper because I HATE HATE HATE HATE PRINTING. IT IS A FUCKING WASTE OF SPACE TIME MONEY AND RESOURCES. and many printers are stuck up people. and i hate to wait for hours at the shop with no service at all, and sometimes i cant even be angry at the staff because the machines are the problematic ones. because i know that. because i worked in a print shop before. and i HATE cmyk colour profile, it is unhappening and unbright and dull. the ink market is a greedy market. the amount of money that can buy a tank of petrol can only print barely how many words and how much area that moves no mountain nor pebble. it is not worth it. i dont mind printing with mud. its the content the counts, not the accuracy of your colours. im being angsty. UGH.-

4. mahou shoujo pouches/ laptop sleeve
5. sew appliques

watch
1. all anime
2. taiwan/korean/ jap dramas
3. whose line isit anyway
4. mind your language
5. modern family 5
6. thai movies, english comedies, animations
7. spongebob and fairly oddparents
8. ah huat coffee movie.


play
1. heroes 3,5,6
2. legend of mana
3. final fantasy
4. runescape
5. other games i downloaded


read
1. food manga
2. shoujo/sports manga
3. scifi list, canticle of leibowitz, brave new world, red planet, finish last book of cs lewis
4. eragon series
5. artemis fowl last guardian, henry neff book 5


eat
1. steak
2. matcha crepe cake
3. swensens earthquake/topless 5 with extra/all marshmallow sauce
4. matcha warabi mochi
5. nasi lemak


go
1. karaoke
2. watch movies
3. orchard road
4. bugis
5. bras basah
6. gardens by the bay
7. cbd sketching
8. clubbing
9. toy shops
10. bed
11. overseas
12. beach
13. sentosa
14. AQUARIUM
15. copic sketching trip
16. kinokuniya
17. borders
18. take pretty pictures


i wanted to rant about show luo's crying face, but im tired.
he is beautiful. i have never seen a man cry more beautifully than him, and it makes me immediately think of him as an awesome actor. i also think that him as xue hai is alot more lovable than himself or the mushroom head in haipai. even though i always support lee wei even though he is always the second lead, this time round i wanted xuehai to win, but as xuehai not mushroom. he has the most beautiful wet-frowny/crying face in the whole world. also, i think the white shirt with the red n blue V shape is the prettiest shirt ever. or maybe he just wears it well. immaculate person. so pretty.

maybe i should learn to draw girls.

dear angel,

I have loved many and lost many. I have been told I shouldnt chase and should wait around for love. I have been told I am not the one they are looking for. I have been told I am a dream come true.

While I most definitely have and am in love, I find my only regret, was not pursuing to the very last second. I have seldom given up first since. In this world, where I try the hardest, I have never regretted yet. Someday I will come to close our chapter. But yes, it is true,

I have loved, and have been loved, many times.
I have become someone I love myself.

I hope you found/find what you were looking for.

,c.

we used to find that feeling described in the movies, chase it,
but when we find it, it is nothing like the movies,
and the movie-parts we find ourselves in, are nothing like the movies.

There isnt enough adrenaline in everyday life,
and the things with enough adrenaline, are most certainly never love.
things like
stalking a crush and peeping into windows,
riding pillion with a friend,
getting hugged by someone older,
taking a hit or an accident for a crush,
rolling into a crumpled heap at the bottom of a mortar hill,
touching the abs of someone who didnt pick you,
going to a field concert date with a handsome man, who plays for another field,
running away from a pedophile and breaking into a school
ruining someone's wedding.

these unbelievable-in-various-ways events, so movie-like, and unglamourous, gave me a high that made up my life.

I guess movie things do happen after all.

Chasing the feeling, I guess, while unneeded,
I will most definitely continue to do so.

I wouldnt trade any of these experiences away for a more peaceful glamourous life. That kind of life is not worth living.
Havent you ever devoted yourself to a mere single moment?

Because this high is what it feels like.