March 2, 2009

It’s funny how my career and my love life is inversely related.
2 years ago, I had the best boyfriend in the entire world but the worst gig in the entire universe and beyond. He was attentive, bought me chocolates while dining out with friends, caught me tiny froggies for breakfast. But I worked from 3pm to 3am, no fun on fridays and a screaming boss.
2 years later, he turned into a flirtatious, attention-seeking, closet ah-beng and we broke up.
Whereas, I found a job I loved. It paid well, entails free lunches and drinks (and I’m the client) and my ex boss sends me emails to check up on me.

Is this supposed to be a choice?



March 1, 2009

I watched Kim Sam Soon a few years back, and I loved the romance, the humour and the good looking guys. I loved Sam Soon and I couldn’t tolerate that skinny ex girlfriend.

I decided to re-watch it because I needed a dose of drama to distract me from reality. It was disturbing watching it the second time round. I seemed to emphatise with the pretty skinny ex girlfriend this time round.

Turn on the fairy lights

February 19, 2009

I still maintain that my mood is like the stock markets, prolonged downward trend, slight unsustained uplifts, only to crash blood red later. Delicacies have lost their flavour and my weight plunged a good 5kg and counting. I have stopped laughing and smiling physically hurts. I cannot take the immense immobilizing pain that sweeps over me only to subside after a bout of tears. I will not be able to survive another failed try.

My heart and mind is constantly at war. One denies the loss of a big love, another knows that I am too disillusioned to carry on. I thought that if I intentionally hurt myself, I will crash into pieces and never do it again. However, the tenacity of love coupled with infinte reveries hold stronger than my mind. I tell myself, “Just once more, you will break this time.” But it does not. I do not know who I am or what I feel. Am I a masochist? Am I depressed? I am angry, vengeful, filled with hatred and loving, forgiving, compassionate all at the same time.

I wish he would see my face as it is, look me in my eyes and understand. I wish he could see all I am feeling and love me. Love me the way I love him. Smile at me like the way I used to smile when we wake up in the morning, with a cloud of lazy bliss surrounding me. Smile at me like the way I used to smile at him because he is the only one I could see. That smile, my smile, a big wide silly grin with snaggly teeth, eyes crinkling into a messy fold at the corners, sparkling with joy, fascination and contentment.

Do you remember what true love felt like? Nothing could touch you, with him, you were invincible. You could go out and exclaim, “I am happy.” You uncover this immense untapped reserve of love, which you freely use and never ran out. You could hold his hand, nibble on him and smell his scent. I have lost all that. “Move on”, “Snap out of it” they say. But first answer me, do you remember? I never fell in love, I never treasured anything more than myself until I met him and he slipped away.

I am scared of myself and I am frightened of tomorrow.

It is really dark in here.

February 19, 2009

I’m still falling and I’m eagerly anticipating hitting rock bottom so I can bounce back up again.

February 12, 2009

Still purple flowers abloom outside my window
Black bird and its sunshine beak hides amongst the crisp leaves
A young lady of 25 slides open the glass door of the corner bar
and starts to push and pull the stubborn rattan tables
The screen flickers before me
A message from Kang, and another from Milligan
Non-stop contact in this fast paced world
But outside my window
Another world exists

11th February

February 11, 2009

Today’s the day, 2 years, it’s going to take every fiber in my body to will myself not to cry.
It’s going to be ok, right?

Karla, karla, I’m obsessed….


February 9, 2009


I’m another day closer to the 11th.

We met at the Alliance Francaise two years ago. He wasn’t a stunner, but there was just something about him that made me want to be close.

A year later we went back to the place we met. The feeling was somehow different, somehow strained. I cried that night. I knew something had changed.

This year, I’d tell myself it’s only a date.