It's been over a week
since you told me you love me
and you made me wish I
could fly halfway across the sky
to a rainbow-coloured fantasy land,
steal glimpses of the natural you
and wish we were all brand new
all over again.

It's been over a month
since I heard your voice,
and you told me a story
of another girl who stole your heart,
plastering it to her bedroom wall.
And whilst you painted that picture
of a beautiful love
and I, oh, shame on me, but
I wanted her to disappear.

It's been over a year
since you stepped in
and complicated my simple dream
of a simple life with a simple man.
Cause darling, you're anything but
and you throw me into different
places within spaces
of dreamy afternoons
and sophisticated evenings
that break into the late mornings.

It's been an age
of wanting you to be different;
a reciprocal sort of change from
my bitter past of holding onto
men who couldn't love me.
I should know better,
grow a little wiser,
but I'm throwing myself into
deeper waters
amidst darker self-made promises
of a love that's yet to come
and might never appear.

I'm doing too much.
I'm telling lies.
I'm lost for words.
I'm sleeping in class.
I'm eating the wrong food.
I'm too tired to move.
I'm hurt.
I'm serious but you aren't.
I'm making mistakes.
I'm in need of time.
I'm strapped for cash.
I'm not choosing the right priorities.
I'm forgetting things.
I'm stuck.
I'm nobody's girl.
I'm forgoing what I want.
I'm about to fall.
I'm losing you.
I'm losing... me.

Two nights ago, I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognise.

Me: Hello.
Guy: Hi. *asked something which I couldn't hear/comprehend*
Me: Sorry, what did you say?
Guy: How much do you charge for half an hour?
Me: ... Er... What sort of services do you think I provide?
Guy: .... Sexual?
Me: I think you've got the wrong number. =.=

Two hours later...

Me: Hello.
Guy: Hi, how are you?
Me: I'm good, how are you?
Guy: I'm good. How much do you charge for half an hour?
Me: ... You've still got the wrong number.
Guy: Oh.

Trinity was laughing and joking that maybe someone gave out my number for fun. :P I did wonder about his question afterwards though. NOT THAT I WANT TO ANSWER IT, but that he only asked for half an hour. And you can think of the implications yourself. Trust a male friend to tell me later when I related the story that 'that's how they charge'.

Men, indeed.

I was on the train an hour ago when this gay man asked a lady sitting next to me how much she charges. Honestly, what's up with all these questions! She denied that she was a prostitute, but frankly, if you ask me, just wearing a gaping trench coat on the train is really...

Right, never mind. :P

So...

sape nak pegi ke Snow Patrol ngan I? :(

Trinity refuses to skip class for it. Noooooo...

Die lah.

Two nights ago, I really wanted to throw my pocket French-English-French dictionary against the wall. It's already complicated enough trying to write in present tense, but to describe the past... absolutely mind-screwing, I tell you. That's the way it is with French; I get so frustrated trying to be eloquent (or just plain accurate) in this foreign language, but when I'm done, the relief just pounces on me, that I can actually write something and I grin like a Cheshire cat. Even if it results in my tutor going, WTF is this mad woman trying to say?! #$&% But it was 3:45 am when I was done, having returned home from a dinner function (as such missing out on Kitty's birthday party :( *sadness*) and going to tutorials the next day was definitely not on. :P Which explains why I'm in uni now, on this sunny, beautiful Thursday when I normally only have a Mon-Tues-Wed uni week. As much as I love my three-day week, I can't help wondering where the hell the weekends disappear to.

And I did make the full-fat, full-cream cheesecake with dark chocolate swirls, but it was strangely unsatisfying. Not the making process, but the actual cake. Somehow, it doesn't taste the way Mom and I used to make it at home. The cheese just wasn't dense enough. Of course, I didn't make it the way Mom loves it too - heaps of biscuit and practically a cheese topping, haha. But I do love it when the dark chocolate swirls turn into chocolate pieces once you refrigerate it. Out of this world!

I have an interview at the best ice-cream parlour in Brisbane tomorrow. Wish me luck! :)

All you wanna do is have a good cry. But the sad thing is only one tear manages to make its way down to your cheek before you have to say to yourself... you don't have time to cry.

That's how fucked up things can get.

I just wanna stay at home and make a full-cream, full-fat cheesecake with dark chocolate swirls and nurse black coffee fresh from the press.

I think about what I've done now and maybe I feel the slightest tinge of guilt. Not about what I'm doing to him (actually, I've barely devoted a single thought about how it might affect him, lol), but what I'm doing to my friends. Being the middle people couldn't possibly be pleasant! We've all been there before, going from one end to the other, pleading them to see sense. But of course, now that I've done it, I'm sure I'm not the only one who sees how beneficial it is, how it suits every one. My decision is so beautifully final!

And you know, all I can think of is how good it makes me feel to make such a decision out of my own accord, to know that I'm no longer putting myself through this rubbish (all those times I held my tongue and clenched my fists, jeez) because quite simply, I don't want to. Not anymore. I hated it. They hated putting up with it anyway. So now, it's come to a brilliant end. The fat lady has sung (oui, c'est moi!), whee! After all, I have much better, more worthwhile things to get pissed off over.

Somehow, yesterday, before I attempted to fall back asleep again, it gave me great pleasure to think of all the horrid things I never said to him and to picture the biggest downfall ever of this blinded, crazily egoistic self-declared alpha male. Whatever. :P