close

Despite the best laid plans, nothing did happened.

***

Empathy: The capacity for experiencing as one’s own the feelings of another

Sympathy: A relationship between the persons or things wherein whatever affects one similarly affects the others

So where does the line differentiating the two separate both meanings starts or ends?

Where does one stop getting emotionally involved whilst trying to feel for the other?

But then again, when the issue of 'trying to feel for the other' comes into effect, it is ascertain that one would get emotionally involved. *roll eyes* In spite of that being clear, many still uses neutrality as defense: 'I feel for you but I am sitting on the fence' or 'I know how you feel but I cannot quite put a finger to the situation'. Funny~

Thus!

Humans are, inevitably, governed by emotions. Despite countless efforts to shirk off making decision with tinges of emotions, humans have always encompassed their journeys with the heart. Always purer that way. Then, when can we really say that neutrality and ‘sitting on the fence’ has taken into effect? Or are those just mere excuses to not be indulgent of what should not have been dipped into in the very beginning?

*shrugZ*

***

Money is Devil.

I hate money.

It makes me hunger for the unnecessary.

But!

Money is, to a certain extent, the fuel for living.

We can walk. But, fuel drives us faster?

Sounds blasphemous.

*shrugZ*

Money makes the world go round.

Too much of something is never good.

Thus, a moderation of anything is ideal.

Having enough money to survive would halt the need to fuel greediness, unburden the individual from the unnecessary succulence and cork the hunger for luxury.

Instead, empower what is necessary for pure survival in this harsh world.

But!

Money is both important and unimportant.

Sheesh!

Talk about oxymoron.

Life is a contradiction.

*sigh*

jiggled jungle jingle~

When a bunch of ladies sit together and talk, they, inevitably, proclaim that they are NOT bitching.

They are merely discussing about other ladies' lives: the way those ladies go about doing things, how those ladies run their lives, what those ladies had done to obtain the things/'things' they presently have, what those ladies' standards' list are, how those ladies misbehaved in relative to how they should and incoherent to how they look, how those ladies are not acting their age and how those ladies talk about other people. These ladies, they, easily label as sluts. Or maybe, if those ladies are lucky enough, they would have got off the hook with JUST the 'bitch'-tag.

No-no.
The discussees are not bitching.
They are merely elaborating upon the day's given topic.
The discussees roll their eyes in disgust and speak with a sneer on their faces, overlooking their backs intermittently, whilst injecting sprays of green and showers of red upon their continuously displayed arguments.
No.
Other people bitch.
They don't.
They are really not bitching.
Truly.

Nay!
Merely DISCUSSING aye.

*roll-eyes*

***

Super-kala-fragiligistic-aspi-ally-docious!
(Is that the right spelling?)
Heck!
Hark!
Missing my childhood days.
Where I could cycle free, from around tampines to pasir ris park. Then, around pasir ris park to the whole pasir ris. Eventually, back to tampines. Round tampines again, then headed home.
No ties.
No curfew.
No obligations.
Freedom.
Not that I do not have freedom. Apparently, I do. Loads of it. No self-burdened ones though. Has been taken on graciously. It is an issue of: it is already about time to take on them.
But, that still does not stop me from wishing those responsibilities away.
*sigh*

***

The ride of miss is:
Nauseating.
Hurtful.
Claustrophobic.
Painful.
Burdenful.
Depressing.
Heart-wrenching.

The ride of curing that miss is:
Elation.
Euphoric.
Climatic.
Addictive.
Warm.
Hugs.
Loved.

*blush*

***

Sehelai kain sari yang sudah dipakai
Melayang ditiup angin layu melambai
Di sebatang dahan lalu ia tersadai
Menarikan tarian hidup dengan lemah gemalai

Miss.
Too much.
It hurts.
I miss still.
Still it hurts.
*sigh*

b(L)inded brood

060205

A: Nak kenalkan. Cik, nie Aidah.
B: *smileZ*
C: Oh! Nie dia punya eh?
A: *smileZ*
B: *salamZ*
C: *smileZ*

A while later.

C: Natasha! Natasha!
B: *give blur face*
C: Namernyer aper? Natasha eh?
B: *laffZ* Bukanlah Cik. Nama saya Aidah.
C: Oh! Aidah. Panggil kawan-kawannya semua makan Dah.

Nak balik-time.

A: Tak salam eh bila nak balik?
B: OopZ! Lupa. Tunggu jap eh. *lari* Cik, nak go home ady.
C: Aidah nak balik eh?
B: *amik tangan nak cium* a-ah. Nak balik. *pulled hand away* *well, at least tried to pull hand away*
C: *pulled B towards her* *kissed B on the cheeks*
B: *shocked*
C: Dia antar balik?
B: *nod-nod* a-ah.

120205

B: I wanted to pull my hand away. And then she pulled me towards her instead and kissed me on my cheeks. I was still shocked. But then again, at one time, she called me Natasha. Entah namer saper. *blur*
D: Aik. Kau tak tau eh? *giving that really shocked look*
B: Er. I do not want to know I guess.
D: U sure?
B: *look and stare her straight in the eye* *something tells me that I am about to knock on a door that I do not want to*
D: Natasha is the ….
B: *brooding* *bothered*

me?

Sat in a circle. The living room was brighly lit. Felt great fear. I was told to recite the prayers repetitively. Sat beside 'father'. 'Mumy' was across me. She and she was sitting there too. All of a sudden, they got up, in a state of possessed and looked straight at me. I was puzzled. Was, again, told to not stop reciting. They stood up and went into the kitchen. A short while later, they emerge from there, smiling. As if nothing had happened.

Queer.
Weird.
I awoke with a sniff of flowers upon my nose.
An almost immediate deep gnawing terrible fear grew in me.
I could not re-sleep.

Why?
I dream of her, yet again.
She worries me.
*sigh*

***

Sunday: Quenched
Monday: Elated. No void. Walk with bounce.
Tuesday: A slight loneliness. Growing. Slowly.
Wednesday: Was being offered. Taken back. Irritated.
Thursday: Awoke with a burning sensation. Thoughts circulated around that need.

Bleargh!!!!!
I stumbled upon that rock again.
I need my euphoria.
Please.

***

Pamper me.
With love and care.
Plus attention.
Thrill me.
Make me laugh.
It is the little things that matter.
With that, I am swept.

*blush-blush*

That~

What scares me is that look of futility I see in your eyes

***

Hope.
Hope is a dangerous thing. With it, the tag of expectations automatically comes along with it. Weird. Upon the clash of unmet expectations, the heart throbs with pain. Weird. Is it just a human thing that the heart gnaws with pain upon such unmet plans?

Expectations.
Love begets expectations. OR expectations beget love?
Well, I guess it is the former that portrays truth. *sigh* Is it not better that one walks with the one we love, minus, the expectations? Is it not easier to live through life without expectations? Lesser burdens. Lesser redundant proclaims. Lesser problems.

Pain.
Self-inflicted?
Self-proclaimed?
Self-seek?
It is a self-tag throb or it seeks us?

*sigh*

***

Trust me. I do not purposely clad myself with the shroud of sadness. Just do not want to make the wrong steps.

No. I am not purposely putting on my thinking cap. Just trying to make the right moves so as not to meet the door that opens the wrongs in making you angry.

Believe you me. I am not intending to suffocate you. Thus, I shall lie in my corner and wait.

No. I am not purposely leaving all the planning to you. I can adapt myself to you. It is just that I am not really confident that you would be malleable enough to bend yourself to I.

I am different. I do things differently. I look at things in a queer way. I perceive matters a little too thorough and analytical that it, usually, represents itself in a totally refreshed and different angle. Not that it is a bad thing though. Oh well, I am just different; not typical.

I can.
Can you?

***

The things you do sweep me off.
No monetary tags.
Just hugs.
Just smiles.
An occasional peck.
Just cuddles.
Suffices.

*winkZ*