I have a fantastical dream to one day move and stay in Montreal for the rest of my life.

Elevator, elevator, take me home.

I would like it very much if I could just clone myself and change the gender of the clone.

Then I would marry him and we'd feed off each other's depression and drown in each other while enjoying good music, films and books at the same time.

At the very least he filled up that 'superficial' criteria.

(And if I ever fall into a relationship/self-induced state of liking again, he'd have to have those bits at least!)

Tonight I read the conversation we had that very night. It was magic, joy and beauty. Tonight it is pain, sadness and longing.

I cried then. Tonight I cry too, but for a different reason.

I wish I could just talk to you again, even if to just say something like, "looks like I was right, one question really did ruin everything." but I know it'd be for nothing. You are hard, harder than a diamond and equally cold. I am soft and fold easily. Either that or I fracture into bits and become unrepairable for the longest time. Spun silk to the armoured Kevlar.

There is so much I want to say yet never can, lost in this wilderness that is made of lost things and human life. I whisper it into the air, to treasured people - but it will never find it's target.

I have a very long journey ahead of me, and it pains more when I think it's without you, even for all the hurt you've brought me.

There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save

Do you celebrate the beginning and mourn the end, or do you mourn the beginning and celebrate the end?

Is it best to ignore the pains that happened and to celebrate the joy or to remember disagreements and keep them close to your heart and weep over the happiness once felt?

6 months has elapsed. This should have been a night for celebration, a memorable day spent perusing the little nooks one shares. 6 months ago on this night my wildest dreams came true - and indeed were they a wild dream. On his end Your Ex-Lover is Dead was playing on repeat. It slowly evolved into our song.

It is strange to think about that song. It certainly didn't celebrate the beginning of love (well it never actually began mutually, if you want to put it that way) instead it was the experience of meeting a lost love. Strange song for a strange couple.

Instead today was spent at a bookshop which was mutually shared, but not at the same time. Imagining him ghosting through the white shelves and gingerly fondling Atlas Shrugged as yet another quirky French film played on the television and the air thick with Camera Obscura (or Saxon Shore, today's playlist). A place. His place. Would it ever be my place? A secret kept in my heart and following twenty-four steps behind him, like a little kicked puppy?

Tonight however, the song is the one I sing - the very place I hope to reach one day where I am able to say that I'm not sorry that there was really nothing to save instead of mutely humming Reunion in my heart. Does he even remember at all or has he succeeded that much in mentally erasing me?

For I am seventeen and half alive.

Very strange living arrangement in my house. For the past 2 weeks+ my maid's daughter has been living in the same house as us - she came over from the Philippines to search for jobs a second time round after finally quitting her job back home. So now every night, her mother sleeps on the sofa in the living room and she gets the room to herself.

It's a pretty small room anyway. After more furniture got added to it (at Felice's insistence), there is literally no place to walk now inside the room.

I guess when she gets a job she'll rent a place closer to her office. In the meantime her mother looks more and more tired everyday, as if her insomnia and hard menial work doesn't tire her out enough.

Edit: Just now while washing up before sleeping, I was on the loo when I espied a strange tiny mass on the tiles inching towards me (I wasn't wearing spectacles so everything was a little blurry). At first I thought it was some fly that had gotten caught on some stands of hair and was moving about woefully, then one of those rainy day flies with long wings that land up in water patches and drown in great numbers.

On closer inspection however, it was something more disturbing. It appeared to be an almost transparent flat fat worm inching about, it's fat (relatively) sections quivering in waves with every move it made. It was about half an inch long.

So anyway to cut a long story short I squished it with loo roll and flushed it down the toilet.

The Plain White Ts have absolutely nothing on Tom Jones. Hey there Delilah? How about WHY WHY WHY DELILAH!

Next time find a more creative name which has zero links to a vocal powerhouse, albeit a totally campy one.

Edit: Sigh, I long for the day when I can go to sleep knowing I won't wake up with gastric pains the next day, being able to eat without being afraid of puking, repeat ad infinitum.

I just finished The Rachel Papers by Martin Amis, and the way it appears to parallel my past relationship is scary - startling. Almost every bit of it rang true and home.

I should probably take this to be an indication to never get together with an INTJ/intellectual again.

I have grown quite fascinated with being an INFJ (Introvert, iNtuition, Feeling, Judging), the rarest of all personality types apparently at 1% of the population - though I personally know I do deviate between E(Extrovert)/I and P(Perceiving)/J. I was an INFP last year if I remember correctly.

It's really interesting trying to learn more about yourself - and some of the things you read are simply borderline creepy in how accurate they are. I always thought my attraction to sad things was a strange quirk of mine, but apparently it's something other INFJs have in common as well.

I think he's a IN?J.

So the exams are over, the results are out - and I didn't do to badly. In fact I think I hit my goal of 34 points. But so what? My happiness does not come from there.

The meaning of my life is not exams or studies. It's like sucking on a sweet with a hollow centre, a temporary boost only to find that there is nothing substantial to it. It's like how I listen to so many new artists now, crave to watch so many good films. It's simply stomach filling, sucking on as many empty sweets as I can to recreate the fullness and sweetness that was once there. Chasing a ghost.

Fact is, now that another chapter of this year has closed, I am left wondering where to go from here. I might as well hop off a cliff, there's nothing left to think about, hope for, to look forward to - my life is meaningless. Or rather the meaning that was there is gone and can't be filled as hard as I try.

If only I was some superficial person who could be made happy with riches, items, clothes; a typical kiasu Singaporean with good marks. But no, I cannot. Nothing but what I yearn for will ever do - the rest is all empty filler.

Taken off Daryl's and the Alchemist's blogs.

I also like Metric. Send me Metric songs.

Edit: Montag is coming to Singapore! Shit I want to go, who's up for electronic/indie pop?

I'm having braingasms looking at these books!!!

Cielo bought Lies and I bought Lust (yes I know, stop laughing at me) and Sin for someone, except now there's a Love one that I didn't see at the Times bookstore - any one who sees it in Singapore please tell me! I want it :x

Yay books :D:D:D:D:D:D:D

I have come to the conclusion today that intelligence and academic smarts counts for nothing much, really.

Oh yes, it's the stupid consoling themselves.

All you really need 'intelligence' wise is the decision to not be ignorant of the world around you (though I think 80% of people fail when it comes to this clause) and enough ability to get into any university, even a not-so-good one.

Besides that all you really need is good health (though I fail in this area) and a loving family, not to mention most importantly a good heart. All of which I have (or like to think so). I'm sure I can live happily, go off get a simple degree and pop off to work in some far off corner of the world helping people. I don't need love, I just need a supportive family and a reason to live.

I am painfully aware that I am not an intelligent person, just someone who entertains the idea and enjoys the company of intelligent people. No wonder he left - he saw right through my fraud. Stupid people don't deserve intelligent ones, they ruin the gene pool or something.

When I first came to ACSI, first thing I thought was, "Holy shit, how the hell did I get here?", I always thought it was an accident. Today I'm very sure it was really God's will to just let me meet a bunch of wonderful people and have a taste of an ideal that I wanted, but now know will never have.

Funny, the way I'd carry on you'd think I was a God-less person. Truth is I fell when my world fell - all because of 'love'. Strange thing it is, when the heart is either filled with love or filled with broken pieces, it feels like it's going to explode. Anyway I digress, if God has a plan for me I'm sure it'll be good, even if it's not at Columbia's Journalism school (masters btw), it'll be doing something I love. Even if I'm not an intellectual being (which I'm not anyway), at least God gave me the passion and heart to want to help and do something responsible with my life.

Results are out tomorrow. I hope I get at least mediocre grades. I also hope my mock SAT isn't too bad. Anything more than 1500 will do.

Oh my God, I hate stupid people. I hope these are trolls.

Question: What are the reasons behind the holocaust?

Yes thank you for enlightening me about his sexual orientation, I fail to see the relevance to the question but yes, he was 'messed up in the brain'.

I know I KNOW. I also know you sound like a 10 year old kid, and I hope to hell you are.

Not forgetting those which are just so epic that words completely fail me.

And of course ending off with...

Bloody EE.

Yesterday's Oktoberfast provided more interesting insights than the intended 'experience one night as a homeless person'. For instance just watching how differently the females and the males operated kept me fascinated for some period of time.

The girls and the guys had to sleep separately, which made sense. However this meant I would be stuck with a bunch of girls I didn't really know at all :/ and the few that I did know were casual friends in their own cliques.

Reluctantly holding onto my cardboard (I think I was given the biggest piece, goodness knows why), I walked over to the girls side of the field and was at a loss at how to cope with the familiar faces yet unknown people and ended up latching to Asyikin when she appeared later on the field with someone-who's-name-I-know-but-don't-know-how-to-spell-who-I-say-hi-to-when-I-see -her. Blah :x

Anyway the girls unanimously decided to work together as one huge group and clumped up together, then some took the lead and planned and gave directions, which I gladly followed since I had no opinion on the matter. Looking to the right however, the boys had all split up into their own little groups with little interest of 'unity' with the other guys.

Then later when the males and female were reunited in the common area, the females continued to clump together, to the point that I felt weird going over to sit with the people I knew from class, like Chooway, Ted Kin, Gerald, Joash and Elliot. In the end I aborted my mission followed Mary Ang around -_________-

After a while however, the girls fragmented back into old cliques while the 5.9 guys hid in male territory and refused to come out >.<>Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Memories of My Melancholy Whores which Cielo had lent to me at the area outside the squash courts, sitting next to a decidedly busy and stressed Cielo.

Eventually however people started to drift to the squash courts area, some to eat the biscuits that were provided (which I did), others to talk in a dry area and so on. The boarding school had a fire drill, and later on teachers and Drong had a fine little inspection of our area, impromptu.

It wasn't till 11:00 when the counselors were chasing us to sleep did I go, and I kept being woken up various times throughout the night. Finally at 5:3o we were woken up and herded like sleep by Cielo & Co.

Thanks to the lack of sleep, I drifted off during the SAT talk and The Englishman's HL english review (thought it might be that I was just bored, hmm). Still the entire experience was an interesting one, though one I don't quite feel like repeating for a long time.

And yes, I do know there are homeless in Singapore, I've seen them before late at night - hiding under their pieces of cardboard.

I really ought to stop the things I do - like reading his blog, since it shouts nothing but casual disregard and things like IT NEVER HAPPENED AND I'M IN LOVE AGAIN.

And looking at last.fm and thinking, "I'm home wasting my life away while he's out and about carrying on like before".

The Alchemist spoke once, before a paper (English? I think), and he told of this girl he clinged onto for 3 years. I can't say that I didn't react to that with complete empathy, "Oh I'm going to be like that too! I'll never get out of this horrid mess I'm in", nor snobbish disdain, "3 years!!! How pathetic! I'm not going to be like that".

Fact is right now I'm a stuck wallowing in a hole, I have no either how the hell to get out and all the same I don't really want to - I don't know and don't want to let go. Call me silly, self pitying and all - but there is nothing to fully describe the feeling of fully letting go of what you once had, even if what was there is long gone. The heart and mind simply doesn't want to face reality - to put in bluntly.

It doesn't help by far with his personality and the fact that we are in such close quarters. The way he ignores me and pretends like we are even less than classmates - the meeting of eyes and the cold indifference I feel shooting through my very being: I feel like I am being erased from everything. Forgotten. One of my greatest fears.

Oh I really should not be saying such private things in a very public blog, but tonight is a night that I have no time to jot it down in my own personal diary. The fluidity of typing also helps me to channel my thoughts better rather than writing it down.

Tomorrow night is OktoberFast, I hope I don't faint and collapse; though right now that sounds like a terribly comforting idea since there is no telling where a unconscious mind might wander.

Just as I get the inspiration to start on my Econs commentary, my index finger starts hurting from the bite my brother gave my just now in the car.

It was so painful and he left teethmarks in it and it started to bleed. Even now hours later you can see red marks from where his teeth were.

Bloody hell. But physical pain I can handle, better than the other sort.

One day a little boy walked up to his teacher and asked, "what is love?"

The teacher replied, "I will tell you, but first you must go into a large field of corn and bring back the largest ear to me. There is a catch: you cannot go backwards."

So off the little boy went to pick the largest ear of corn. In the cornfield every time he thought he saw the largest ear of corn, he decided to venture onwards in the event he might see another larger one. In the end he came to the end of the field empty handed and returned back to the teacher mournfully, thinking about the large cobs that he had missed earlier.

"This is love," the teacher said, "you keep looking for a better one but you only realise it when you have already missed the person."

--- A short story Cielo and I saw today while out, make what you will of it.

OMG FUCK I JUST FOUND MY LOST IPOD SHUFFLE...

IN THE POCKET OF THE PAIR OF SHORTS I'M WEARING (same one I wore for Ironman).

AND IT DOESN'T WORK ANYMORE*.

$(&*@$&@#(!@)!_@

*(it went through the wash -_-)

Stupid thing was so small even the maid didn't notice it as she ironed it -_- and when I brought it back from my grandma's place I didn't notice it either. It also took me like 10 minutes+ of wearing to even notice anything was in the right pocket too. Grawrgh.

The more time I spend at home with nothing in particular to do; the worse and more pathetic I feel. I actually sort of miss the exams for that reason - not that there is a lack of work to do (TOK, EE drafts, Econs IA3, World Lit assignments), but work which is immediately pressing that cannot be put off :/

I need something to occupy my time that is more meaningful than multiplying and killing sims.

Edit: I feel a manic episode coming ): I guess it was just in hiding for the past day :x nevermind, hopefully going to Gerald's place and interacting with people will chase it away.

Okay shhhh, thanks to all who were concerned but my episode is over now.

Nothing strange happened today to me, so yes. I guess it's over for this time.