I had written this when what was left of my heart got broken the 2nd time around ...

Babygirl, forget about the way your palm gets sweaty when he comes up your driveway, offering a warm smile and platonic embrace.

Babygirl, forget the easy flirtations that lose themselves in hours of conversations as you share food, your fingers shyly brushing against his.

Babygirl, forget about the way he sings you the melody the lyres of his soul hums, because the more you relate, the more you realize that it isn't about you.

Babygirl, forget about the contentment you felt as his arms would now curl around your waist, hiding that sigh in fear of giving yourself away too much.

Babygirl, forget about the songs that you sang together in his car before you invited him in, because though your honest emotions vibrate in your voice, you misunderstood the intensity in which vibrates through his.

Babygirl, forget the scent of his perfume on your skin as you lay pressed close against his chest, the scent that lingers on your clothes, on your pillows.

Babygirl, forget the earnest acceptance of his kiss that night and the pressured caresses of his exploring hands.

Babygirl, forget the way his lips pressed clasped around your breast because he had his eyes closed the whole time.

Babygirl, forget the shock you felt as he held you tenderly in his arms hours later, looking down at you with a slow smile, then a change to a look so monstrous as the realization of what just happened hit him.

Babygirl, forget the disappointment that surged through every vein as he uttered an apology, and the silence that followed, the sound of a crystal heart breaking, and the silence that followed ....

Babygirl, forget the pain as a dark heavy gloom consumed your soul after he moved away and left, empty excuses echoing within your shell ... "I'm should have never allowed that to happen ... I'm sorry"

Babygirl, forget the anger you felt as the picture became clear, as you suddenly realized the only heart beating strong with love that night was your own.

Babygirl, forget the pain.
Babygirl, please try to forget the pain.

Babygirl, it's your fault too, don't you see?

Babygirl, it's your fault too, for you never gave up hope.

Babygirl, it's your fault too, for you allowed yourself to fall in love with him in silence.

Babygirl, it's your fault too, for you were too blind to see how much more in love he still is with her.

4.12am
Late Night Alumni ~ Empty Streets

Mr & Mrs Housemate are leaving for Tioman tomorrow until Tuesday.
"So who are you inviting over to keep you company? Having any wild drug binging orgies? Make sure you take pictures!"
Disappointingly, no. Luna's been rather tame this past few weeks, only giving into the sexual frustrations once last Friday to both her Persian Lions, which was soon followed by immense feelings of guilt and disgust. What was odd was the guilt. To whom did I betray? I crave the vampire's bite a little bit too much these days probably.

But yes, the big house will be threateningly empty for the next few days, and the only moans of pleasure that will be bouncing off the walls will scream from the television. Luna has no desire to be promiscuous.

About the two ...

I hope she doesn't make you smile the way I do when I lean in towards you, speaking low about my indecisive decisions of where our next misadventure should be.

I hope she doesn't know that special way of catching your attention when you silently detach in the middle of caresses.

I hope she doesn't awe you the way I do when I lie about my disposition, pretending I'm so much stronger and hiding the growing cracks on my soul, but truth being you can see right through my vulnerability.

I hope she doesn't lay in bed with you, her long slender legs tangled up with yours, as you softly sing together the rock music that I grew up listening to.

I hope she doesn't feel like I do when I sidle up next to you and slip my arms around your waist for a snuggle.

I hope she doesn't make your heart flutter like the moths we saw near the swimming pool of your apartment.

I hope her lips don't catch yours the way ours did when we stay home watching movies until the sun comes up and I have to shower and get ready for work, feeling the bite bruises on my neck.

I hope she doesn't gently clasp her fingers with yours when you drive.

I hope she doesn't make you feel the way I make you feel, in any way at all, because if she does, then I will cease to exist.

7.30pm

I've become lazy
hence i've moved my writings to little notes on my facebook profile page
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=759195525
this was requiring too much effort in which i can't bother to comply. sigh

i'm snogging the next person who buys me a Hazelnut Latter with whipped cream.

Seeking The Black Widows

4.18am

Three days back to smoking Pall Mall Menthols and I can struck down with a gross phlegm filled cough and an almost excruciating pain everytime I swallow. Feel my forehead Querido, aren't I a little feverish? Tough luck.

I'm typing very slowly and carefully at this precise moment, not wanting to put little dents in my now familiar black nails. Hides the nicotine stains and imperfections.

So we just finished decorating work, 2 hours of achieving cheap thrills on the fumes of Aerosol Spray Paint & Glue. I was making cob webs out of string. Friday the 13th you see. I am Luna's mild amusement. You'd expect me to be in utter glee that since I'll get to don sexy vixenish black attire with a hint of emo rocker grunge. To those who know me, that's how I am everyday. They really should create a day where people celebrate dressing up as furniture, or household appliances. I'd make a great blender.

Overwhelming feelings of want today. Wanting the see my phone filled with messages from my Querido, little amusing Imissyoucantwaitforyoutocomehome smses, or Ivelaidatrailofjellybeansonthefloorforyousoyouknowthewayhome sorta stuff. So bite me, I like cheesy sometimes. Silly grin on my face with goosebumps kinda cheesy. Its about time I have cheesy in my life.

Sen is leaving. I'm quite upset about the fact I missed out on his quiet farewell get together because I was nursing that goddamn viral infection. I'm upset because the warmest drowning-in-depths-of-comfort hugs will cease, and the protective vibe will be too far away for me to bask in. And I never was a phone person. Always felt cheated that cheap plastic was the only was of connecting 2 people.

Sen, you know I effin love you, and I'll be sending Celeste down there to check on you every night. Look up in the skye, you know where to find me.

My nails are dried. Vamp's gone missing from MSN.
Luna is debating whether to be an Incubus or a damn dirty ape.
Vampish dreams of the ape for tonight.

I'm still alive ... did you wish otherwise?

12.11am
Hurt - Sevendust

Yeah, its been a while. Apologies for the hiatus, the past one and a half weeks was supposed to be a good time off, away from work and drama. Unfortunately there was not much relaxing done when the left side of my head throbbed constantly with migraines and I was home bound due to the contagious rash on my face. Igor would have taken one look at me and sprinted down the stairs screaming blue murder.

Just got home from the movies with Mr Housemate. I've got my laptop propped on my naked thighs and have found a warm corner in my bathroom. I've gotten a bit sick of the traps of my comfortable bed swallowing me in endless folds of softness.

My facebook says "Nazluna is debating on whether to smoke the line or snort the cigarette"
Heh. I wish I had both the options right now. I'm hung up so dry its not even funny. Dear Vamp, I wish we were back in your apartment, sitting outside the window surrounded by bottles of beer, and looking up into that long line of cloud in the sky, wishing we were in a helicopter balancing the Mother of all straws.

The good news is that my best friend loves me. I know because she told me so. When we had sand between our toes and insane adrenaline flowing through our chemical induced veins. When I held her waist as we were walking through high weeds when she had to go pee. When we had our heads propped together, smoking a cigarette leaning against a four wheel drive on the side of a highway in Pahang. I can hear it in the wind, I feel her love for me when I look into the mirror and see my eyes staring back at me. That's all I need to keep me going right now.

I have also decided to erase The Asia Works bastard out of my life. I deserve to be treated as a person, not a pound of meat. Besides, I've had enough of making him look good.

I'm decided whether to be an Incubus or a Damn Dirty Ape.

Still stuck on Indecisions

4.03am

I had the invitation to the Envy Magazine launch which was at KL Pac today, was supposed to turn up in glam 50's rock 'n roll wear and do my thing. Problem being, I really don't know what my thing is, and there was a tug of war going on in my head.

Did I want to go and be the cool funky friendly bartender that everyone knows and adores, have my arm linked with Dee's arm and air kissing the other people that I saw that with my camera in hand to show Vamp how much fun I was having socializing. when really in my head I'm wishing I was high on highways to at least produce some verbal diarrhea and comfort to appear superficial like I really did give a shit about the people that are in the scene these days.

After so long, I'm still in this social dilemma. Who do I really want to be. After the Cat Got Your Tongue event last week, I was so sure about reappearing once again in the scene and rekindle friendships with the Somebodies, go back to partying at events and creating havoc around town ... Today though, the thought of having to dress up and make that effort to be sociable seemed like it was too much of a facade and work. I could pull it off no problem at all, but did I really want to spend my day off like that? Give up binging on junk food while watching DVDs at home in my jammies, remaining boring and anonymous. I really need to sort this. Do I want to be Miss Luna Social Butterfly again or Miss Luna I Don't Give A Fuck About Out There Really.

(A small part of me though, regrets not going to the party now) Well too late for that innit.

Instead I opted to have Rusty over, catching the midnite Indiana Jones flick with Jules, Wan and Sen. A nice shag, a cool car, caramel popcorn with Strawberry Fanta, stealing little kisses with Rusty, Mackers for supper, and now me sleepless, envious of Rusty's little snores.

It could have been much different. But really, no point dwelling now.

It's a Volvo addiction

5.35am

So I thought I'd be a good girl and take the rest of the day off yesterday to rest my poor head and cook up a tasty meal, no dwelling about the pathetic emotional state I was wallowing in. Three hours later, I ended up being somebody else's supper.

The last time I had seen Rusty was probably 2004, the worst year of my life. It was the time I had run away from home, crashing over at my Guitarist's den, dragging days being a Barista. I hated it. Yet I still trudged down that hill for ten minutes every afternoon to the main road to catch the bus to work, blowing whatever I earned on cigarettes and meals for me & Star. (It was years later when I opened Webster and found a picture of my face as the definition for 'doormat') Rusty was my knight in a shining red classic convertible Volvo when I was late for work that day. He cruised up right next to me, demanded that I got it and spoke to me of cars and hip-hop all the way to work.

Fast forward to present year, a few weeks ago, he adds me on MSN.

Rusty: Luna! Rememba me?
Luna: Hey Rusty, yeah i do. Its been a while. How you?
Rusty: Its all good yo ... but hot damn, look at you!
Luna: Whaddya mean look at me?
Rusty: Fuck babe, you're hella hot now! Damn gurl you got me all hard.
Luna: ..... Gee, uh, thanks yo. Haha, didn't expect the ugly duckling to bloom eh?
Rusty: Don't get me wrong girl, you've alwayz been ma little sista you know? And now you're looking all sexy and shite ...

Right. So why did I give that degrading talk the time of day? Well... Rusty has always been a sweetie. Sure he's a scrawny ass dude who looks like he wishes that he was getting down with it with Puffy and Nelly. But looking back, he was always nice to me. He always talked to me when the rest were busy ogling at under aged bitches, and he did throw me a kick ass 20th birthday party. So I figured, this is gonna be fucking weird as hell. Then The Little Girl Inside My Head reminded me of the scandalous rendezvous I've had in my past that really made this look like a cone of chocolate ice-cream. I suppose it would be quite fun.

So he text-ed me at 3am, just as I had stepped out of the shower, ready for sleep, drugged up so badly i could feel my brain oozing out of my pores. Half an hour later he drives up my alley in that red classic Volvo. Ten minutes later I take off my top so he can have a closer look at my tattoos. Five minutes and one cigarette later, his fingers are shoved up between my legs. Just a sigh of relief towards the end that nothing was awkward, and that boy was well equipped with a hard raging manhood of 8 inches. I would have kicked the fucker out if it was anything smaller just as soon as he had shot his load.

My tolerance for seven thrust wonders and toothpick cocks is zero.

Hand in hand with Alice

5.20pm

These past two days has been a familiar escape into superficial hightimes and meaningless mind numbing sex. Its like I asked the Universe for a reason to love, and she only gave me what I am worthy of, my past's stray lovers probing inside me. Its been a heavily nostalgic past two days. Far from the comforting sort of nostalgia one would allow themselves to daydream about. It is my fault, i won't deny that. Choosing to swallow the bitter pills and snort highways as an escapisms. Did I even think then, that cradling cocks in my mouth was going to assure me the night's comfort?

Just when I thought I've found my balance, the scales dip with certainty. I figured that now I've gotten myself a good job and have managed to stay put with it for the past two years as my character is slowly but surely being shaped and molded into something stronger, I'd have an easy time dealing with petty problems.

Being over confident that the sharp thorn of mental piracy won't get in the way of a new beginning.

So now its me, wanting to be the best person that I can, and then there's the little girl inside my head reminding me constantly of the cracks I have on my soul.

Thinking is a disease I can do without

4.46am
I miss having sand in my underwear. The smell of the banana suntanning oil, and the way my skin glistened under the sun. The banana milkshakes too, at least 2 a day. The clear blue water and the fish that nibbled at my toes. Sitting on the porch in the afternoons with a plate of fairydust cut into neat lines. The overwhelming sun and how beads of sweat would roll down my back. The half naked tanned beach boys. Cinnamon flavored whiskey named after a Monkey. The routine of waking up just to throw on a bikini, have lunch, suntan and read. The complete freedom and relaxation. Too chilled to even think about sex. Too happy to care. I miss that.

I thought it was very unnatural to have felt such an extreme pain and letdown, and still not have shed any tears when he decided to set me free. Today all defenses broke down. When Boy bailed out the second time around, all emotions suddenly burst from my chest and sent searing pain down my veins. It wasn't at all about Boy though. It was the slight disappointment in his lack of consideration maybe, that reminded me that I now stood lost and alone. That no matter how many plans I make, or friends I see to make the time go by a little bit more enjoyable, I still return home listening to my own heartbeat.

I realize now that its not so much the thoughts of a person that makes them insane, rather the deafening silence that bounces of the bare bright white walls that makes a mind deranged. The relation now is too similar, ejecting any chance for clarity.

Jules has been a brightly colored brick in my ruined crumbling wall. I appreciate her wise understanding, and the way she sees my good points and constantly reminds me what I am made of. Because my mirror does a lousy job of revealing my true nature.

I also realize that I only manage to sound terribly depressed and wickedly dark most of the time here. Self analyzing tells me that I'm cynical yet hopeful to be proven wrong, unfortunately preferable with acts of romanticism. I wallow in endless self critical conversations in my head to rise above it and be a better person, only to allow my insecurity to hold me back. Then I find myself compromising with others, and biting my tongue, only telling the little girl in my head how I childishly feel self pity.

I'm not really depressed. I'm just stuck a constant stagnant monotone.

3.03 am

During work today I asked Sen if he'd like to go for food afters, and I was glad he said yes. Truth being I can't stand being home anymore. I've lost the interest to clean up, the floor now scattered with dust bunnies. Jewelery in a mess. Ash stains on my sheets. You'd think an insomniac would waste the hours by maintaining a certain level of cleanliness in the state of living, but at this point I can't be bothered. If I stare at the dirt long & hard enough, it goes away. And thats good enough for me.

Three days ago Poopie and I chatted online, and she was telling me about her plans for us to move to Bali and fix Vespas for a living. She's met someone who owns a quaint little place, wood windows and all. I've always wanted green wooden windows. She said it would be perfect, the life we've always wanted, eating shrooms on the beach, hooking up with surfer boys, cheap beer during sunset. The life she wants, the one I wanted. Working where I have for the past 2 years, I wonder I know now that it has steered me in a completely different direction, and she had somehow managed to control the path that she wants. I remember once we were completely free spirited. The sort that would blow smoke bubbles in an AA meeting.

I'm overwhelmed by nostalgia. The items in my room represents my past, the feather boas, sand from Perhentian in a Monkey Juice bottle, the bright neon colored posters on my walls, the butterflies and the fairies ... in me though, I'm searching deep within and find little proof of beliefs I held onto so dearly when I did 4 years ago. Sure life has made me jaded, a little cynical. Hopeless romanticism faded like my favorite pair of jeans that I can't even fit into anymore. Damn I've come a long way. Sure its for the better, but I don't feel good about myself. Its like a piece of plastic bag someone dumped in the ocean and it mysteriously wanders wherever the current takes it. Uncertainty scares the shit out of me, but I have hopes of making it somewhere. Its a need. But I don't know how to live up to it.

I feel myself straying far far away from my friends. But just because we haven't bonded as frequently as we used to, and ways of our lives now differ so, I hope they don't drift away. Most of the times I don't know how to show them that I love them intensely, and they've all I've got to remind me of who I am.

Who I can be? I wish I had a map.

1.15am

I wish I could wrap up the bright white office light with a nice purple plastic. Its too cold and cruel in here. Well. My brain has officially dripped out of ears. Its been unbelievable stressful at work lately, to the point where tears threatened to fall on my face from those around me who have no sense of urgency at all, and appear to be very comfortable with the incompetence that flows through their puny little brains. I was *this* close to just screaming until my voice cracks and hurl myself against the thin pane of glass that separates my office and the window. Its quite shocking though, the fact that I've been wrong all this while. I always thought I could handle and even work well under pressure. Goes to show that the months of Production Pressure shouldn't even be compared to this. I am Luna's breaking point.

Vamp's birthday was yesterday. He's received my package which contained 3 t-shirts, 1 boxer shorts and 4 packets of Oreos. I wish we were in the technology era of teleportation. I would have been there as soon as the clock chimed midnight, with a barrel of Stout, 5 grams of K and my entire DVD collection. Let the marathon begin! Ah, good times. Oddly enough though, I've never been able to find that comfort again with anybody else since. I wonder if I'm not looking hard enough.

So I got a hair cut today. Think Charlize Theron in Aeon Flux. One hour of straightening and 30 minutes under the mercy of his cold metal scissors snipping away at my dreadful curls. I didn't mind one bit. In fact, I would put him on the pedestal and offer sacrifices to express my gratitude. The new mojo is amazing. Better than i expected. Sexy and pixie-ish at the same time. I am Luna's utmost satisfaction. Now I long for him to nuzzle at the back of my neck without complaining how my hair would poke him in the face. Its tame enough now. This is a revamp. I cross HAIR off the list and stare at THOUGHTS. Below comes DAUGHTER.

I wonder how she is which is something I wish was not on my mind, because not too far behind comes the guilt. The possibility of it all being my fault, and these actions so far just blinks harshly like yellow neon arrows pointing out that I really have been a shit reason for a daughter. Its been a month now, precise. A bigger part of me doesn't want to lose the fight in our ongoing silent treatment game. So far I've been doing well, years of practice you see. I don't want to break down now. Not after she refuses to wish me on my birthday and also ignored me completely at the last family gathering. Go ahead, call me childish, you don't see the point.

Boy and I initially had a lunch date tomorrow. Then just said he couldn't make it. At first I felt cast aside, wanting to be silly, pull a face and pout. Two seconds later I came to my senses and reminded myself that nobody owes spending time with me. Some times I just wish I could stay silly without the Little Girl in my head chastising me to be sensible.

1.33am

My aunt called and asked me if i wanted to join her for dinner tonight. I hesitated. Thinking it was some sort of a trick she had where she'd conveniently forget to mention that my mother would be joining us. Weighing the possibilities of that and the fact that I was painfully broke with a packet of Maggi and fried egg for a lonely dinner at home, I agreed. Luna's paranoia shall be dismissed for the day.

Turned out it was just the both of us. She brought me to Marmalade where we ordered a salad, two lamb mains and awkward small talk came complimentary instead of dessert. It reminded me that a family exists somewhere outside of my sanctuary, and the thought of having to keep in contact with them every so often seemed like a burden instead of a necessity. I remained civil though, and acted like a niece she knew, accompanying her to some boutiques after dinner and giving her my 2 cents worth. She offered to buy me clothes several times, but i declined. Later I found out she had wanted to give me cash but left her ATM card at home. I wouldn't have wanted the clothes anyway. Maybe two jugs of beer and some affection if her credit card could swipe for that. And a pack of cigarettes. I didn't ask. In the end when she dropped me back home and kissed me on the cheek, I guess I could say I felt really grateful she thought of me and came out of her way to check up on me. And I wish I could say that I feel a bit of remorse when I realize that I wouldn't have done something like that with my family.

There's a movie about Bob Dylan on my television but I'm not really watching it. It could be interesting, but at this moment, the movie just makes me feel less alone within these four walls. At least some people are having a decent conversation, having some sex, feeling some genuine pain from conflicts and heart aches. My own heart ache only leaves me empty and cynical.

All day I've been dying for a cigarette. Reason being I was too broke to buy any. Mr Housemate just came home with a pack, and I tore through it and sucked the life out of a stick. Sadly to report that I am severely disappointed in the lack of satisfaction it offered. I'm halfway my third consecutive stick now. And still I feel nothing. It scares me because I realize that from this moment on, my life is going to be very different. The little girl inside my head has set it all up, and I've blindly fallen into the trap of despair. Unwittingly.

This boy says he'll always be here for me. That i can always turn to him for venting and maybe a shoulder to cry on? Thats not what I need right now. I appreciate it though, but that isn't going to offer any sort of comfort. I'm way past a fucking shoulder to cry on. Way past the razor blades, and drugs and rebound animalistic fucking with strange men. Its just going to be trial and error from now on, what the next cure will be. And this, unfortunately, will not be enjoyable in the least.

1.50am

I just hope the universe has mercy on me.

I'd like to think that I mean a whole lot of special in his life. Back of my head, I know I do, but its just not the special that will eventually lead us to have a happy life one day. Together. I keep telling myself to give it up. Move on little girl, open up your heart to someone who will cup it in his hands and smother it with chocolate coated kisses. Tried and failed. I've lost count of the numerous attempts. At the end of today, I know I want his love.

I hope that at the end of tomorrow, I will be someone else's love.

My healthy lifestyle and thus lasted 2 weeks, and ongoing. Healthy meaning absolutely no carbs, sugar, and afternoons of a 45 minute walk. Vamp's been giving me pointers, and plenty of motivation. I actually feeling really good about myself. Unfortunately there is always a villain in any phase of achieving a happy ending. This time around its my mind. I am Luna's confused and childish emotions.

But I'm trying, to nevermind the bollocks.

For some strange reason, I don't think the universe wants me to quit smoking. Seriously.

Saturday night i had broken all rules and sacrificed my coin piggy bank at work and traded my coins for $30, which allowed me to purchase 3 cancer menthol packs.

On Sunday night, a foolish customer had left behind a brand new unopened pack of Camel Lights. This beggar ain't no chooser. Hence I had cigarettes to last me until Tuesday.

This morning I had spent my last $5 on a can of latte and Curry Chicken Puff, worrying over the next month as i had only 10 sticks left in my last pack. (Yes, so I chain smoke ... bite me)

Lukas came over today, opened a bottle of wine and left me a $40 tip (God & Satan alike bless his soul) allowing me to have cigarettes for the next 3 days, and my handphone with credit once again. Another drunken fool left a pack of Malboro Light Menthols on the bar. Without hesitation, the pack was tossed over to me. It pays royally to be the only Menthol smoker in the premise.

I am feeling very blessed and loved at this point. My lungs growl out obscenities, but after 9 years of constant shrill nail-down-chalkboard screaming, her voice is now a mere faraway hum I've managed to live with. I am Luna's lack of discipline.

Watch Fight Club for the very first time last night when Insomnia spent the night ( shame i know) Oh God. Brilliant script. Norton was brilliant. Pitt was surprisingly hot, but most of all Helene Bonham Carter stole the limelight. Fuck she's hot. Given the choice between an intense junkie looking muscleman, Hollywood's IT humanitarian and the busty intriguing husky voiced pixie ... It's Carter hands down. The black eyeliner and messy black curls just does something to me.

It was Lesbian night at work today. L word screening on one of bare walls, sexy house music, neon colored vibrators as gifts, buckets of Tiger and Heineken out the service area like maggi goreng and at least 120 lesbians of all sorts. Meat market for all. Unfortunately, i did not find a single girl attractive in the least bit. Especially not after they'd come up to me to make small talk. Contrary to popular belief (its the short hair and tattoos that gets them confused) I am very much certain of my straight preferences. Though sometimes i do get curious due to the promiscuous careless lifestyle once led, but no questions about it now, that its the cocks instead of tits for me. Hands down.

Moo is sick today poor boy. I've sent him sayang vibes from here and Celeste, my gleaming silver and lilac Unicorn to watch over him. She was almost reluctant to leave my side, but knowing he needed her more, she complied. Now he's latched on to her, but I know she'll come back to me soon. She smells the Monkey Juice Esmerelda so graciously lugged back from the Islands for me. Whiskey whore.

I missed my 45 minute afternoon walk today due to the rain. Already i feel like a blimp. A hot sultry one, but a blimp nontheless.

9.32pm

I have the maddest unexplainable cravings for the deliciously sinful cheesy Eggrolls from Chilis. And all I have staring back at me is my 9th prize consolation dinner, Curry Calamari and Tofu Soup. I wouldn't mind a noose around my neck right about now.

Sigh. My nights and thoughts have returned to the stagnant comfort zone, against my will.

10.08am

Sleep didn't come easy last night, instant regret after granting him permission to share her space for the night. It was very different before, I remembered falling asleep with his slow breathing on my neck. This time around I felt raped, staying silent with disgust, frozen smile on my face. I feel terribly cheated, whats worse, by my own frame of mind. Thinking I could make my nights a little more bearable with insignificant company and the affection they offer. Not quite. It was almost mental torment, laying there wide eyed awake, thinking what the fuck I was doing.

I need to sort myself out.

Its about that time of day when I should be out on my walk. Cardio first, scenery second. There's boxes of Milo in the fridge and plenty of cigarettes to go around. Quit? Hah! The weather seems kind today, cajoling me out of bed. What if I start walking, suddenly overcome by extreme fatigue and pass out at the side of the highway into a dark dreamless state of euphoria? That would be messy. I'd be late for work.

Disappearance has always intrigued me. Not so much the incidents that lead up to it though. I wonder all the time, if I go missing (swallowed by a hole in my bathroom floor maybe) would people notice that?

Would the people at work think I'm playing hooky after numerous failed attempts to get through my phone, then proceed to write me a warning letter? Also discussing a paycut to express their disappointment in my lack of commitment and irresponsible behavior.

My mother wouldn't realize of course until about maybe 2 months down the line when she comes around to express her anger and frustration in even having me in the first place, then when she realizes I had gone, she'd probably break into a jig and take all my beach dresses along with her. We haven't even spoken in 2 weeks. I think she worships the silence.

My best friends would have no clue either. I've already failed to report to them regularly due to the unkind hours of this professional line, only to suddenly resurface in their outings once a month if Lady Luck permits. No, they've gotten used to gradual lack of my presence in their lives. Even the phone calls have ceased.

In a way, I've already disappeared then haven't I?

5.14am

Its been a night of downloading Simpsons from the internet and chain smoking. The only lullaby that's left now are the shrill screeching of the alley cats fighting for dominance. You wanna reign over ditches choking with cockroaches? Be my guest Miss Meowr, I'll stay without riches in here.

I initially had a plan. It seemed like a great money saving plan. It would have been good for my health in the long run as well. The plan ... was to quit smoking. After I was done with my last pack of Pall Mall Menthol today, I was going to stop buying packs, and restrain the painful need to inhale passionately on the nicotine after food. Of course, the moment I had stepped out of the shower and discovered there only lay one lonesome stick in the pack, my reflexes gave Housemate a call and asked him to get me a brand new pack. Not even vaguely remember the ingenious (yet very impossible plan) I had two hours ago.

Not only after the sixth stick had been killed off in the ashtray, it dawned me. Oh fuck ... too late now innit? Maybe tomorrow. That's what they always say. Maybe tomorrow. Oh well. One thing at a time I suppose. I'm giving my discipline too much credit.

5.27am
REM - Everybody Hurts

Tonight ended with porn. Grade A extremely tastefully done Private company porn. With my other plans of finally turning celibate after 4 years of meaningless unsatisfying temporarily entertaining sex, I've decided to give it up. It's about time anyway. The past few times have been incredibly boring, halfway finding my thoughts on giving my nails a manicure once this was done and soaking my hair in conditioner for a special half an hour the next day. I didn't pity the fool, he was trying. Little did he know too. I bet his little Zeus would have shriveled up in shame if my thoughts suddenly appeared in glassy translucent bubbles above my head. I pity me. And the phase of life I'm currently stuck in. A loveless life after long grueling uninteresting hours at work, coming home to screeching cats.

Woe is me? Too much self pity indulging. I've get over this. I'm picking black for my nail polish again. Creature of habits aren't we all.

7.54pm

I love the sky before it completely darkens. A beautiful complicated confusion between shades of blue. Sometimes even purple and pink. The sort of pink shade i wish my cheeks would turn when I blush. But that would mean having to lose this tan. And so begins the self argument yet again on whether I'd prefer an even golden brown or sickly Gothic pale. Tune in another day.

Death in the family. Sigh. Unfortunately not so much a sigh of mourning, rather a sigh of utter frustration of not being able to have my usual sleep in on my only day off in the week. My aunt was a cold hardhearted bitch in the walking days. After both legs were amputated from being a diabetic, she was in a state of constant delusion (which i silently envied). Now she's dead. Secretly, I know the entire family sighs a sigh of relief. Except me. I love death don't get me wrong. I think its the most beautiful celebration there is after a life has been lived here on Earth (Heaven & Hell). Make the best of your life, the best advice people repeat continuously. I try. In my constant moments of indecision floating in the murky pools of endless empty thoughts, I try.

I'm bringing my Bubble Blower and wearing purple to the funeral tomorrow. Just to piss the dead bitch off.

4.03am

Some kinda night it turned out to be. Besides the rain, which seems to have made herself quite comfortable against my window sill. I don't mind her. Today marks my first day in the office, seated on my own desk, still lacking the personal touch. On the window next to mine I've pasted picture of escapism. Postcards I used to collect in moments of utter boredom in childhood days. Chicago, New York, Bermuda, Maldives, Je Taime Paris ... And of frozen smiles of friends in simpler times. I rather sink into the familiar past than have the bleeding bare teeth of uncertainty seep into mundane thoughts. Lately mundane.

It wasn't planned of course, the sudden confession of hidden feelings i had for him. Blame the weather and Mr Sandman as much as i want, at the back of my mind she was screaming at me that it was time. Any longer and it would have gotten more complicated. Fuck my intuition for being my best friend, honestly. Whatever happened to the times when she was distracted by blue butterflies and gleaming unicorns? I guess we all grow up and grow down ... depends. I hadn't expected anything in return, honestly. Deep down though lays a lingering bold question mark, red like the Riddlers. I appreciated the moment and truth that came thereafter wholeheartedly. Burden lifted? Immensely.

Thoughts straying back that thin thread held flimsily between my heart and his hard callous fingers of the awestruck love. Skin crawling though pleasantly at the memories of that drumming rhythm against my bare chest. Constant stolen kisses. Solid bonding over years which inevitably resulted to a deep affection and understanding, once responded to and yet now caked in uncertainty. Its a painful way to live, its his selfish sense of gift. If you love him, let him go they say. What grounds are they to decide this on? Give up on the future built on sweet whisperings and postcards and chocolate scented bubbles? I think so. The grounds which once my feet stood on so firmly now sway like undercooked jello. Its time to wake up little girl, and smell the cigarette smoke from which your Intuition inhales hard upon. She knows whats best.

4.32am

Its decided then. Cynical? Maybe. Progression? Much appreciated.

3.04pm

The day started out reluctant and lazy. Mr Sandman only visited at 8am this morning, out of obligation more than empathy. I don't blame him. I've turned him away at the door once too many times.

There was a motivation to the early start today ... Vamp's package needed to be sent by today so that it'll reach him in time for his birthday. I was sprung out enough, brushed my teeth, threw some clothes on and snorted a mean highway for the road, makes morning reality a little subtle. The walk was pleasant enough and the thoughts were as scattered as the dried leaves strewn across then Park where we once sat and had late night vampire boozing. Comforting sort of nostalgia though this time around. Appreciation to this morning's route of choice.

I was trying to add some sort of a foreign hopeless romanticism to the walk but failed despite the imaginative soul. It is after all Bangsar. No matter. I've always wanted to be a part of this suburban and now that i am, it remains intimidating to me. Reality Check for the day was when i bumped into Mazlim and Jasper, and the flashbacks of twisted wired bulletsnorting faghaging beerdrinking pillpopping gaykissing loudmouthed provocative sexually flirtatious me began to blind me from the sun rays, though saying "Your past was once feeding on superficial hightimes!!! It's not goin anywhere, the cravings are still in you!"

God. It was a warm sun today. Good cardio workout though.

4.02am

The moment of truth. With white tiles snorting highways.

I wish i was on an actual highway right now, left arm out the window with a menthol dangling between my fingers ... highway music. Please define, something like Snow Patrol, Remy Zero, Broken Social Scene. I think of Zihan when i write this. She knows the soul of the highway and what it does to a person. The nostalgic nothingness and stagnant sorrow for the times went past. I relate to her soul the way the signboards point out the directions. We know where to go, but often wonder why to take this route.

Simplicity appeals to me. Long stretched winding roads that will eventually lead to somewhere but at that point all that matters is the company. I guess this is where the glass shard breaks and shatters. Back then Zihan and i would always wish the skies were dark, easier to hide our imperfections. We found comfort in the silence around us because the neon lights always carried a sharp superficial reminder that we were different. Now that i think about it, i still stand my ground. We are different. We just felt a little bit too much.