June is the cruellest month...

... this month has been a big disaster. i can't wait for it to be over. absolutely nothing is going right.

i should go off myself in the corner of shame. but instead i went for cake and beer with Sohnee at 3 in the afternoon yesterday, then went to see a movie (which i slept through the first quarter)

ugh, my trachea fucking hurts. i should quit. i will, once i finish this pack. i will not buy another. i keep getting nose bleeds too (which is odd, because i never get nosebleeds. gross.).

Korea lost today, and i bet England's gonna lose tomorrow. baarrggghhh. it's rainy, and it's absolutely perfect for reading poetry, while eating watermelon.

if rage was made of strawberries, i would be drinking a whole lot of smoothies right now. but i give up. i just want this month to be over.

a slow and endless drizzle.

"She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood.


She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped"

"There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away, the things she won't remember and that she can't even let herself think about because that's when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it's always raining a slow and endless drizzle."

... just came home from walking around for hours around my neighbourhood. sat in the shower for god knows how long. i feel so entrapped within myself. solitude is as delicious to me as the calming breeze that almost seems improbable after an unfortunate filthy summer day... i think i might be addicted.

gazing and gazing... i don't know what i'm looking at, but it feels nice.

rompers+bralessness= my fashion theme for the summer

Russh Australia June/July 2010

you can plan a pretty picnic but you can't predict the weather...

...quite an enlightening week... sent off Sara to the states (how will i survive my second puberty with you in another country for 2 months? i'm going to be a mess by the time you get back), interesting dinner that left me a little dumbfounded (Melyssa: "you look like someone told you that your cat had died, but you don't even have a cat" = an accurate summation of how i felt, actually), ate cake for lunch with my brother, finally had a talk with mom, spent hours at starbucks, reading, driving around, and saw my lovely ladies. weekends fly by so quickly...

i should be discouraged, since i was trying the whole 'being more open and not so guarded' thing, but i don't want to be. i'm going to stand by my rule of three chances.

Jessica Alba = Girl Crush #1

Gen Lux Pre fall

sometimes i just flatly refuse or is too numb to acknowledge it...

... because i feel like i'm being weak, so i'm secretly so amazed and relieved when someone else is angry on my behalf.

i'm always too shy to say it, but thank you.

sometimes i wish i had been born with a gentler temperament. either that, or a penis. time and time again, i feel like i should've been born a man.

it would've been easier if i had an accepting complacency towards the traditionally feminine traits and roles; perhaps i could have even enjoyed it, foolishly immersed in the swirl of aberrant notions of femininity thinking that i was fulfilling a natural order that is too easily taken for granted by many.

i wish my whole being didn't revolt every time i am forced to live out sexist expectations, i wish it didn't make me shake with anger, i wish it didn't take the degree of self control that is as painful as driving a dull knife into my thigh every time.

i may only be biting my lips but if you look close enough, i'm sure my hands are shaking from sheer repugnance; i may be smiling at you but i am disgusted by you to the core, and i would rather have you spit in my face.

sure, if you want me to smile, i'll smile. you want me to play the docile embodiment of your mother? fine. you ask me to do things that clearly screams to me that you only think of me as some empty headed piece of meat, sure, i would love to do it for you. oh, and would you like a happy ending with that?

ah, the perverted irony of life... it has taught me how to fake it to perfection, and keep my real self hidden.

and people frown upon prostitution? the real whoring goes on in offices and not behind closed doors.



anyway, this is how i know i wasn't meant for jobs like these. it's just too bad it's not the right time. for now, unfortunately money is going to have to be just money.

well... fuck.