So... I'm quite losing it. No, really, I keep thinking about it, and now I'm rewinding it, and filling myself with this anger and longing for that choice again. I want to go back to the time when she sat with me, helpless as I cried, wishing I could stay, wanting things to be perfect just like that, and knowing that I couldn't and wouldn't ever walk away, not without you, now that I had discovered what it was like.

But then like the stupid little girl I was, I let it slip. And for a second here, I'm honestly wondering how it happened again, if it wasn't as I thought it had, wasn't as I recalled it had. I've forgotten the first year, you know. And perhaps most of the 2nd. It's faded away into the parts where loose panels fail to meet, and I can't even try to remember, because nothing comes to mind. Everything just falls away. Did I repress it, because it hurt and it ached and it bled?

I'm skipping back and I can't stop. To when I held onto my mobile phone, as I sat on the floor, holding onto the dial tone, my eyes fixed on the grey evening sky outside that held no answers for me. Never mind the sweat because I had forgotten about the walk, only the thoughts that had circled and swayed. My heart had slowed to its normal rhythm and my voice became this dull, monotonous voice that you would never want to hear on the other end. I could be remembering the other details wrongly but this was how it was for me. If it wasn't intentional, I would've thought it was. You skimmed, I dodged, and we were both just unhappy.

I... I don't know what I'm saying anymore. I just know that this part of me, this part that remembers you? It doesn't belong to me right now.

These are (amongst) the things that I really wanted to say:

Screw you for not taking me seriously.

Thanks for making plans that involve me without asking me.

I told you so.

You missed out. And you really deserve it.

Do you? Do you?

Fill this awkward silence in now, please.

I don't feel like smiling.

No.

I don't know what to say to you.

What'd you do that for?

I'd rather not.

Ermm... what did you just say?

I can't pretend I don't care.

Please don't read into this anything more than what I need now.

I'm really, really sorry. Again and again.

Can you just shut up?

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! :)