the love letter writer.

the love letter writer
an evil cupid in disguise
is selling proses of love on a cheap
who's buying?

fall in love with the recipient
whom he never met
break his own heart over and over again
in his own imaginary scenarios
passionate sentence and flirtatious phrases
he laid his pen in a mission to make her fall
not for himself but for them
who never seemed to understand the language of love

the love letter writer
went through too many stories of others
fell in the first sentence
and fell out on the full stop of the letter written
how absurd a love can be,
in a letter full of alphabets of deception.

growing repugnance,
he has lost the ability to write for his own
love letter has lost its meaning
when the writer has already written countless.
to those he once loved,
even only for the duration of time taken to write a love letter.



how true are those words in your love letter?

secret.

dont tell me the truth
you dont have to
and u deserve some space for a secret, or maybe more

everyone got their own secrets
broken vase in the living room
underground love hidden for years
or a love letter on the windscreen
more or less
im sure there will be.

there weren't anyone who live without a secret
and i believe that secrets subconsciously affect our behavior
some screamed because of secrets
some silence for the same reason
more or less
im sure there will be.

i gave each of them a secret
they will be happier with the secret.

what urs?

the show.

a night to a circus show
or a orchestra performance?

a risky but eye catching performance
or a very stable but somehow dull one?

i want a stable yet heart thumping circus show.

hehe.

home?

i purposely chose the seat near the window
i thought of the little kid that sell kuih in the bus station
i felt very thankful despite the imperfections
i listened to mp3s that i always listened to
i read few pages of a book that ive given up reading long ago

i forgot where i belonged to
i forgot my destination that im heading to
i forgot the definition of home

i thought of days that left me behind
i remind myself of the time i left behind
i saw love outside the window
and hatred on the other side of it
i fell for things that passed me by in a blink of eye
i had intense yet short lived feelings for sceneries moved backwards

i grieved and i laughed
stolen and stealing hearts
it is all amusing enough
to keep my mind busy along the journey in a bus

thats why i chose the seat near the window.

words to a stranger.

she dont smile,
her beauty frowns,
a glance worth a thousand pounds,
she walks the sideway of that little town.

she hardly spoken
but her eyes sent a thousand words
she couldnt run away she couldnt hide
the prying eyes by her side
what would make her change a mind,
should i hesitate or get off the dime.

not until the stranger passed me by..

imperfection.

dad has been telling me ,practice makes perfect
but being an egoistic me
will always find reasons to oppose logics and theories

the moon wouldn't be so beautiful without its flaws
life would be meaningless if there wasn't ups and downs.
we wouldn't able to distinguish one another.

ive been practicing my song for so many times,
just to make a part of it run out of tune.
look dad, im practicing for imperfection! haha.


you're not perfect, neither any of us are




imperfection is where your beauty comes from.


imperfection made me who i am.

night time stories.

i remember
smile as sweet as minty chocolates
chilly palms that once froze in time
warm shoulders in the dark cold cinema

where are you my dear friend ?

i remember
words that lighten up the dark blue nights
sleepless night that you listened to my lullabies
and looking at the imperfect moon on a perfect starry nights


where are you my dear friend ?

every little details of the scenery outside of my window
says a little about you.

i shoudnt go any nearer.

im sorry.

sorry.
it is hidden quietly somewhere in a corner
joining other truth that has been concealed
waiting for someday for them to be revealed.

ive long forgotten that little space,
as i tried as hard as i could to forget,
i've forgotten that little corner where so many things were forgotten there

i'm almost there.

but sometimes the reverie before the traffic lights turning into green
or just an untitled melody i played with my fingers while falling asleep in the office
or the sleepless nights that seemed like blood were oozing out within
would remind me of them.

sorry,
i have to hide the hardest word in the world,



simply because i love you so.

wrapped.

i like to read catalogs since i was a kid
this once again made me questioned my childhood
did i grew up like the others did?
like to flip thru catalogs of furnitures that i couldnt afford
loiter on ebay browsing craps that would make me poorer
or even catalogs of groceries could make me few percent happier.
haha, it cant be any easier to make me feel happy.

i start to appreciate the meaning of packaging
since they are part of the subject i'm studying currently.
i feel reluctant to unwrap things that i've bought
i thought they're some sort of art , when something is beautifully sealed

do i have to buy something home and follow the urge to unwrap it,
despite the desire to keep it just the way it is?

a Gillette razor is still nicely wrapped, lying in my cupboard.

the man walking on the tightrope.

i'm a man walking on a tight rope

hanging in the middle of the nowhere
shaking with the wind blowing with despair
the end's too near, but when will i be there?

i'm a man walking on a tightrope
not afraid of death, i'm dare to hope
step forward and ill be free
turn backward and back to my dream
which direction should i be?

no longer able to balance myself on the pain in my head
your whispers decided my next small step
i've been holding on, for so long
so long.
without moving on.

memories in my right grasp
and the future on the left
forward equals to ignorance
backward leads me loneliness
do i have to fall
to earn myself some happiness?


the man walking on a tightrope
he deserves some sympathy.

god made me special.

god made everyone special
every faces and every pair of eyes is unique on their own way
can u imagine that?
when u walk into a crowded place
how many story is playing at once?
a middle aged struggling in a job with a low pay and wondering how to hide that from his wife
young girl quarreled with boyfriend because he left the keys on baskin robbin's table
a proud dad who's thinking new names for his newborn
and countless others
ups and downs in everyone
in you, in me.
we're all in the roller coaster of life

the more people i meet each day,
the more i see the true colors of life
every pair of eyes that crossed mine
telling me there were so many story untold
every single person that passed me by
has passed by so many people in their life
and even every pair of hands got its own story to tell
every footstep on the sideways have walked thousand miles to reach where they are


if everyone i met in my life have a movie of their own life time story to show
i guess i'll have to spend my entire life to watch them all.


i guess i need 3 hours for my own movie.

Sunday.

im starting to appreciate Sundays more
like i'm supposed to.

this is the day when u can sleep,
long enough for the sunlight that shine through the half opened windows to warm you up
you dont have to open your eyes even if ure awake,
you rather force yourself into sleep knowing it is too early no matter what time it is,
and waking up without having to worry the condition of the hair, haha
knowing today belongs only to you.

you can sip some coffee beside the window with your favorite music playing along
you can just stare outside the window looking for clouds that shaped like her face
you can jump back into the bed anytime, but u wouldnt want to.

and so, u spent the day when the clock moves slower than usual
and the pace of the earth's few second lagging,
without having any plan in ur head
i painted
i sang for awhile
i called home for some family warmth.

this beautiful little Sunday,
my beautiful little Sunday,
you deserve a beautiful weather, just like this.


i deserve an ordinary Sunday, just like this

im writing this in my office.

im writing this in my office,
no, i dont go online in the office,
im writing using my imaginary pen
and the mind is my paper scrambled with alphabets and words
this is the only way i can write anytime and anywhere i want

Second day, third day,
i'd say everything is fine
i realised that im starting to get used to this new life
which i dont want to get used to
but along this years i found out that our body and mind tend to adapt to things as time goes by
whether u like it or not

*learning how to control the stomach that grumbles at 4.15pm
forgetting my latest addiction of swimming pool water
and not letting the romeo of my ears meet juliet's music

i witness the changes, every little bits of them indeed
fading away in slow-mo,
what can i do to stop this?
or should i just let it be?
,knowing that im helplessly stranded in the 21st floor of life?

i know one day, one fine day
when i will live the life i wanted to live again
for now,
i carefully unattached them as a part of me
i know that fine day,
i will breathe the air the way i want again.



life is not giving me a chance to miss you

but i did.

im just a cuckoo clock.

i cant believe i sold my freedom over a pile of bank notes
i started working today, in an office
it was indeed like being trapped in a traffic, for 8 fucking hours
and along the 8 hours, u have to work mentality and physically

is it true that money can only be exchanged with freedom?


i cant believe i sold my freedom over a pile of banknotes
does my freedom only worth that little money?
or im just a cuckoo clock who thought he worth golds?
is this the nature of the adult life?
which everyone have lost their enthusiasm for life?


i guess im just not used to be trapped in a place for too long
staring out the office window but without able to breath the air outside the window
is torturing me like watering a thirsty man in a desert but not letting him to drink it

i cant dream whenever i want to
i cant sing whenever i feel like
i cant follow my heart
only because i've asked life to shackle me , and cage me up.


there's one type of bird that will only feel safe by keep on flying and moving on

i guess im that type.

alive.

death,

is a very horrible thing
to those who're alive.

i admit that im afraid of death
i always thought that life is too beautiful to end anytime soon
sometimes i dream of death
they say we always dream of what we fear of happening the most
i'd wake up in horror
to realise im still alive.

i'm afraid of death, do you?


but
there's no such thing as fear once we're dead
cause, we're dead.
if this is the fact,
am i supposed to be afraid?

ask me, i like to help.

Ask me, I like to help

Above is my msn status, offering help to people who needs one.

some asked me if i could tell them how to study
my underage fren asked me what to do if his gf is proposing a breakup
frens asked me to kill their boredom.
one asked me bout types of girl id fall in love with.

another fren asked what form of help that i can give.
thats when i paused awhile to think
what can i give? what do i have with me now? nothing special?
online consultation perhaps?
any subject other than maths and anything that deals with number
haha.

it has been two days since i offer free help.
so many questions and doubts i tried to answer
no matter they're satisfied or not

I'm almost out of answers...



at last,
no one understood,
whats in the lighthouse man's mind.



i wish i could help,
but heaven knows i'm the one who sought for one.

just another bad hair day.

Its time to cut my hair again
suddenly feels that to cut short is a waste of money and time

its always hard to get the perfect length i want
when there's perfection, i wont last long
thats why i cut it over and over again,
with the thought that it will look better, ill be very satisfied the next time
and the days after a visit to the saloon,
the hair lives in a condition which even he himself cant recognize himself



but for the sake of keeping it until an unacceptable length and cutting it again

i chose to bear with it.



i hate my hair,
i love my hair.

end of the road.

i stared at nothing,
looking at each alphabet like wondering how they was originated
reading the sentence over and over again
hoping that something new will pop up in my brain
where all the facts i memorized were used up

its my fault
i shouldn't have over-listened boys ii men songs
instead of remembering the organization structure of a salesforce
all i could remember was every single line in boyz II men's "end of the road"
and the melody keeps playing again and again in my head
and so i made up senseless story of lovers reaching the end of the road
and jumped into the river of love
how absurd it is to have such stupid thought at such important couple of hours.



it is indeed the end of the road for me.

my sneakers, this is for you.

my sneakers that i loved
my sneakers that walked me miles of road
we've been together for not long
but i have always loved you

but now
my sneakers are stolen
we'll never realize how important is something until it is gone, how true
now i know, now i know.

but now its too late

how are you doing over there?, someplace where i dont know.
quietly lying in other people's shoe rack with the odour ure not used to,
starting to adapt to that person who liked u like i do,
or tasting loneliness just like when u were with me before?

sorry i took us for granted
i should have brought u inside, beside my bedpost
i didn't do whats right for us
and i guess i just have to admit
even i'll have to witness you in other ppl's feet

but
without a blink of eye
without a single sense of feeling unsure
without a word, from a thousands unspoken.
i'll just pretend that im fine with it.
im ok.


so long, my sneakers
love, darren.

refuse to sleep.

i refuse to sleep,

although my body telling me he want to rest

it rained hard,
i cant remember when was the last time it rained
the night is so peacefully beautiful
light breeze caress me over
embraces me into herself

letting my self fall asleep too early would be a waste,
with beautiful music playing thru my wooden speaker
im falling into my own heaven again

when the raindrops fall at such a perfect moment,
miracles happen,
i'm blissfully enjoying the night like no one else would do
and it is just another ordinary miracle in my life.

-----
and so,
i keep looking for excuses to stay awake,

just a lil later than usual.

alone in the pool.

i fell in love with moments in the pool alone
i purposely choose hours when there's no people in the pool
when i can pretend the pool belongs to me, my private pool
dive in, and swim around.

i fell in love with moments when i swim alone
it is funny when you're alone doing something
more thoughts will come across
its like there's a voice which u can tell its ur own, inside ur head
mumbling more than a thousand words, to you

it might be something important,
like the motivation or reason to swim
or something irrelevant or stupid,
like the crazy thought to swim naked.

especially when i go beneath the surface,
i cant hear any other voice, the world turned silent
but still my voice speaks louder,
yet i turned deaf,

im lost.

i shut my eyes as hard as i could
and try as hard as i could to find my own voice again
finally i found it in an echo of my own

thats when i feel safe again.


-------------------------------
so many thoughts in a short session in the swimming pool

thats how i listen to myself.

im disconnected.

hey, being disconnected wasn't that bad at all
no chatting
no urge to check mail
no problem breathing
not as bad i thought it'd be

instead, i have more time doing other stuff
more time with guitar
and cleaner room
and some ideas for the next painting
and some dusty books are read once again


free urself from something u cling to
things aren't that bad as u thought it would be afterall

beside the window.

when ure 21 years ol' and busy with ur life as a 21 years ol'
u hardly get a chance to sit alone
looking out from the window
and suddenly see the slideshows of past few years of ur life playing on the pale blue sky

i had that chance today
and i just thought that how fast time has been moving
like i always thought

but i just realized that i hasn't ever realized how much time has changed me

my likings,
my lifestyle,
and my personality.

to good or bad,
i dont know...
but there were changes...
all along the way.

thank god, for moments near the window.
:)

filled.

if u asked why am i so busy recently
id hesitate for somewhile or might not be able to answer you
days were hectic that i lost track of things i do
what i remember was few performances,
loads of school work and
meeting countless person...

life was once empty but now its full
like an empty bottle filled full with rocks at first
that full.
but then sand took the remaining spaces
letting every inches in the bottle filled

*busy life let me forget there are empty spaces

now i don't care whatever it takes to fill them up.


when is the water coming in?

illusion.

tell me its not real,
that illusion that appeared
on your night where stars were glittering
and the moon were splendid

when everything are perfect.

and the perfection happened
without the picture of me appearing in ur painting


you don't paint loneliness anymore.
and i guess thats the end of the story...

wait, wait, wait.

do you hate the feeling of waiting?
been waiting for the past,
and waiting in the present for the future to fall
waiting for the unforeseen to unfold itself
so uncertain, and so unconvincing
u chose to give up or stay up for the uncertainty?
that sometimes seems like an tunnel with no end
waiting can be a form of torture

i hate to wait
but im born with the patience to wait
i waited for the grad photo session
i waited in in lines for hours
i waited for my reply of blood test for days
i waited for my cactus to grow for months
i waited for you, for years.

waiting, everyone around is waiting,
some waited somewhile,
some waited for too long,
while some waiting themselves to give up waiting.

they're all the same,
the followers of waitings,
the slaves of an unforeseen future.

what they can do is only wait,
because no one can fast forward the tick of clock.


so you choose to go home to sleep?
or stay here with me?

leave me alone, guitar.

when i have to keep my eyes on the screen full with words
when i have to lay my fingers on keyboard
when i have to work for hours just to finish up my part of work

the guitar lying quietly on its stand
has turned into a form of distraction

she don't move
she's still
and she dont have to say a word

seducing me wanting herself in my embrace

how to keep my self from falling into her?
oh, the beautiful 6 stringed instrument in my room

stay away, stay away for awhile...

our song - 4:06.

i hate sentimental songs
thats why this sweet song is playing on my winamp, repeating over and over again
its not that im in love
perhaps i want to disguise myself
concealing the truth that im somehow living with some negative thoughts and mood

so,
let me forget the sad melody of kissgoodbye
and temporary live in the sweet tunes of forever love

i'll pretend the story's mine, until the end of the song.

i'm not a star, but i got my pride.

its raining hard out there,
can u hear the voices of pouring rain when u read this line?

im emo-ing here,
can u hear my heart beat when u read this line?
*
*
how many raindrops fell onto places

how many hearts break into pieces

how long have i been living in illusion

how long it took me from dream to realization

how the night with a downpour wet the edge of my passion

and how could i make it through with memories to renaissance.




its raining again. :)
heavy rain always put me in a type of mood even me myself couldn't classify
left me petrified clinging to loneliness,
and yet fortified by my sense of unconsciousness.

that could only be justified by singing it out, saying it out, or writing it out.

i chose the latter.

numbers.

my head wasnt really blank

indeed it was packed with stuffs that i dont need
the ink of the pen that i was i holding awaiting to be released
i stare on the paper filled with strange lines and writings

what strange?
it is because all out of a sudden i couldnt recognize a word on it
they were numbers,
numbers that ive been taught
since the day when parents decided that im old enough to be taught
numbers that im so familiar with yet hated for
numbers that caused confusions when it is put together
and more confusions when I have to put them together

3 ? 7 ?2 ? 8? how did somebody created those thing?
suddenly i gazed at the number like that is the first time im shown to it.
im like an newborn infant
the shape is so weird, y it is 8 shaped like this "oo" ?


the closer i look into it
the further away i'll be from my sense of logic


I'm LOST, IN the numbers On my maths paper.

hug.

give me a hug.
and ull warm my heart

shred away the doubts
and distance apart

give me a hug
worth more than a thousand bucks

i need a hug
in the night so dark.

thursday night.

i turned off the tv
i turned off the lights
the world is still moving

i refuse to write
i refuse to paint
there'll still be millions of thoughts waiting to be expressed

i dont see
i dont hear a thing
but it never change the fact that refuses to become a history

things that conceal it self from what bare eyes could see
never really went away.

it has been always there.

is it goin to rain?

is it goin to rain?

the weather report says its gonna rain
but its now evening and there's not a drop of rain yet
i always wondered what would they do if they're prediction is not accurate
cz it always seemed like no one give a damn anyway
they'll just forget bout it ,isnt?

my sixth sense says its not gonna rain!
but outside my window the sky is so dark that anyone would say a storm is coming
but my logical mind battled with the instinct that has been inaccurate lately
but even if it doenst rain later, who will give a damn bout my prediction anyway?
they'll just forget about it, isnt ?


neither the weather report nor my intuition can be relied on
but if i were to choose one,
i'd choose the latter.

hehe.

the weather in this small little town i lived in is so unpredictable
things are always that unpredictable. aren't they ?

incomplete song - 0:39.

there's an incomplete song
that i wrote some time ago
but i havent got the inspiration
i havent gather enough courage
to complete it, yet

it has always been there
that 39 seconds of melody
mumbling words unspoken to u

im afraid that
id spoil the incomplete masterpiece upon completion
im afraid that
beautiful things that always looked perfect
would turn imperfect in my effort to make it perfect

ignorance left me blissful
and at the same time, worries in the state of happiness


the incomplete melody playing in my mind
will be left behind incomplete
left behind
as a beautiful tune in my memory



awaiting your acknowledgement.
awaiting to be forgotten
awaiting my courage of conviction.
awaiting to be completed.

untitled.

ive sang countless songs, but im not a singer,
for the songs i sang are melodies of others' heartbreak

ive painted for ages, but im not a painter
for i dont always lay my words in colors

ive wrote thousands of words, but im not a poet
for the proses i wrote are only dedicated for myself

i think its better to leave me undefined.

4:19.

there's a song
that ive lost count listening over and over again
but still,
i dont understand its meaning

what's in the melody at 3:15 minutes?
why are the words sang are so abstract?

lovers in the song chose to stay or left each other?



im stranded,
with alot of questions that probably no one could ever give answers to .

and i kept listening the same song over and over again.

9 x 11.

i like to be alone
because when you're alone
u tend to think alot,
things that u've missed out crossed ur mind
and make you realise many things that u should had realised earlier

i hate to be alone
because when i'm alone
i tend to think alot,
like, when the world is gonna comes to an end
and many other stupid little things that (probably) wouldnt happen to me

loneliness to me is like cigarettes to smokers

you knoe its killing you softly
yet it is so addictive
strangles you in every minute of it
yet not letting you loses your breathe

its a feeling that u cant explain,
its like an ecstasy that u could only taste by being alone
sometimes i somehow enjoyed this rollercoaster-ride
of feeling like dying and being alive again.



being alone is some sort of suicidal, i knoe
and i chose to be alone.

im not in the mood to write.

its a perfect weather
the guitar is crying for my touch
the pen wants me to hold her so much
and my heart has thousand words to say
loads of melodies awaiting to be filled with lyrics

but still
im not in the mood to write
the too- perfect settings doesnt trigger my desire to write
one reason is already enough for me to not write

ah, and still
i wrote this.

i just realised i'm writing.

imperfection - a self portrait.

its named imperfection - self portrait.

it depicts the imperfection
in hims and hers
in them...
in you
and in me.

under the beautiful outer layer
how do u look like?

bye, my dear friend.

We.
are finished.
we need time to build a relationship
which can bypass arguments and obstacles.

Our friendship just died
like a dog.

we're not strong enough
and simply not keen enough.
im still the same.
thank you.
but
you're finished, u died,
my plant.

so long,
my dear friend.
love, Darren Chuah.

secret.

there's a secret beneath the pocket
that no one has noticed

there's a secret quietly lied underneath my pocket
u should have noticed, you should have noticed

there's a secret hiding from me underneath my pocket
i should have found it ,i should have found it

there's a secret

that is forgotten on a corner which has been forgotten.

i should have remembered, i should have remembered...

tomorow is the day when i'll wake up without remembering that i've been coughing for 3 months.

tomorrow will be the day i wake up without remembering that i've been coughing for 3 months

no more sore and itchy throat
no more red colored pills and sickening cough syrup
and no more restriction to my food intake

i'll sing aloud
i'll eat my favorite burgers and fried chickens more than i've ever ate
i'll recall how bad my cough had been
and even write a story for it

yeah, im still coughing now
but i know im recovering
after tonight, everything will be back to the way i want again
this will be the last day, the last night

i gulp down the last drop of my cough syrup before i go to bed
knowing i wouldn't need it again

and tell my self
tomorrow is the day when ill wake up without coughing for the first time in 3 months.

runaway.

i wanna runaway
to a place so far away
to a place ive never been to
to a place where there's no annoying parking ticket queue
and the seduction of fast food that is killing me and my friends slowly
and mobile ring tone that always seem to be ringing in my head

i just wanna runaway from the reality sometimes so cruel
temporary leaving everything behind without being accuse of irresponsibility
understand that im not avoiding from things that i have to face and dont want to face
i just want to live ahead of time,
leaving the present behind before it catch me up from the back again

i wanna run away
without thinking much about the unforeseen consequences that might arise

i wanna runaway
knowing that ill eventually returning back to the starting point

i wanna runaway
without turning back again.

i found rm200 under my bed.

4 rm50 bank notes is recovered
i found it under my bed
i couldnt even remember when
and why did i slip it in there

Sometimes
there are things that i tried so hard to hide hence their existence are forgotten.

sleep.

i always think that sleeping is a waste of time.

your brain works beyond your consciousness
you dream of dreams that its content is beyond your control
u have nightmares,
u sometimes face things that you wouldnt even dare to think of when ure awake
u've forgotten that u might never wake up the next morning to see the sunlight
u've just took a risk that u could not afford to take.

by falling asleep.

your body stop moving most of the time in your sleep
but the whole world is still moving
the earth is orbiting round the sun
millions other people are doing things that u want to do
that u havent do, and u want to do before u die
you missed the sunrise u missed the meteor rain u missed the night

while you are lying there, just lied there
with your eyes closed
doing nothing.

you could have done things that will changes other things with the time u sleep

ha, i guess my philosophy has gone a lil too ridiculous.



i shall go to bed earlier tonight.

3 months.

3 months away from home
after 3 long months away from home
i went back to where i belonged to again

things can change so fast in a blink of ur eyes.
and in 3 months
so many things has changed,so fast,
in a blink of eyes

-

the view way home has changed
the small little hut near the petrol station has been demolished
and now its a hotel in progress

the lil garden of my house has changed
the green leafs that mom planted are all dead
and now replaced by purple tulips that seemed like they will never bloom

my parents has changed
even hair coloring failed to conceal their evidence of aging
and now some grey hair are visible, at least to my eyes.


*
have i changed since the last time i been here,my lovely hometown?
are there things in me that im supposed to keep has faded and failed the test of time?


-
ah, forgive me
im just like the town, where new things were built and old one were destroyed.
im just like the flowers, which cannot live thru the change of season.
im just a man, whom going through the path that everyman have to go thru.



im just me, that tried so hard to stay as the person who i was.

but gravity always win.

CD that i don't listen to.

there's a CD lying in my CD rack, silently
a CD of one of my favorite singer
but the weird thing is, i never listened to the CD
maybe once, but i really never bother to listen to it.
i bought it merely because of the sudden rush of desire to own something that i wish i could own.

i just kept it there,
never bother to take it out, on the CD rack under the other CDs
if its not because of the random mood swing today that accidentally brought me to the thought of listening back the CD again
i might not have listened to it till the day i die.

what is the purpose of owning something that i don't use?
full possession of things that are not supposed to belong to me

is not satisfying at all.


feed my ego.

perfect disorder.

Things are running out of their track
and im living everything in disorder


eating disorder,
double cheese at 3 a.m.
sleeping disorder,
goodnight sleep at 4 a.m.
Autism Disorders, in short , social disorder,
always remind me of the person i once was.

and a coffee at lunch time.

why everything of me are running out of places?


-
wait, things have never been in their own place in my life,
and that made me the person i am now.

how would i look like if everything is the other way round?


ah, im living in a perfect disorder.
and im keeping it.

just a dream.

i dreamed of death again.
a friend of mine passed away in the long long dream
in a short short sleep.

it was so real that i can still feel the pain now
wait, who said it was real? it wasn't...

i forced myself awake,petrified,to realize that it was just a dream
and to feel relieved that my friend is still alive
and a little sense of guilt for not waiting till the end of the dream
to see what would happen next.

what would be the ending of the story?
i want to see things that i never want to face in reality.
but the fact is i'm not even brave enough to do so in my dream.




ha, thank god, she's still alive. :)

i keep on remind myself not to sing.

there's a piece of note
written " dont sing"
pasted on my computer monitor
to remind myself not to sing like i do everyday.

dont sing,
dont sing,
dont sing.

cz i coughed for nearly a month
and i cant continue stressing my throat
singing with winamp again.

why do people set rules to stop themselves from doin things that they knew it was wrong?

and now i did the same thing.

i dont understand,
i dont understand,
i dont understand...

nvm,



i think i'll break that anyway.



i dont miss you
i dont
i dont.

blower's daughter.

the morning i woke up late for class and i saw the arms of the clock pointed to 1 o'clock.

why you have to let me down,

only time when i needed u the most?

-

-

why you have to leave me stranded,

and frozen behind the time?

-

-

i have always believed in you, i really do,

but now u have broken it.

-

-

how to rebuild the trust i had for you,

all over again?

-

-

-

dont stop, move on,

-

-

oh, my alarm clock.

-

yawn.

easel.

do u understand feeling of the sudden urge to do something in a relaxing afternoon?
and today,
i went out to look for an easel.

it has been a long while since i last paint.

i bought a set of brushes, just to feed my desire
but i didnt start painting
i bought colours and sketching block
but still,
i didnt start painting

i think i need an easel,
i want an easel,
i want it to be in my room
ive even pictured where should i place it.hehe.

maybe with that way,
i'll be more motivated to start laying words in colors again.


get me one, anyone ?

the stage, not my own.

Have i told u, that audiences are performers too?
now ive made it to the stage
but still,
once an audience, always an audience
people asked me to concentrate on stage
but i always tend to do stupid little things

one of them is the sudden urge to focus on some audience

no, not pretty faces,i just focused on what they do
carefully listening to me,
or pretending to listen with arms crossed
or some who dont even care,
and those who do talking to the mobile phone all night long.

everything little things suddenly become so clear
too clearly seen for me to concentrate on myself

until the day i master the ability to watch each and everyone under the stage
while playing guitar,
and singing out loud,
while trying to remember words in lyrics that me myself dont undetstand
while thinking of other stupid little things

forgive me for not concentrating in being the me on stage
im still learning.

do u even care what i mumbled on stage?
no, me myself dont care either.

emo.

im depressed as something unexpected has ruined everything

forgive me as i had sinned
to thou i confess under the blue moon
would you forgive me for i has done wrong?
would you understand that i'm just an ordinary man
like you?

do u hear my confessions in whisper?
i know the inevitable will happen
that what is real always find its way to reveal itself

Don't want to be thrown into chaos
by sustaining something that has rotten
which way of ignorance have the least destructive consequences?



i don't know.

i was looking for something in my room.

i was looking for something in my room
and it was no where in my sight

have u ever? .
have u ever lost something?

i looked everywhere
under the bed, in the cupboard, under the computer table
but still, i couldnt find the thing i want now

have u ever?
have u ever lost something and thought you'll never get them back again?

after sometime searching thru
after ive given up
i saw it lying just on the table, behind the wooden speaker.

have u ever?
have u ever lost something,
and thought u'll never get them back again,
but then ended up having them again?

the feeling is like breathing the free air again after a scuba dive.

who.

i realize i've been keeping things to myself
maybe that's the reason of the lack of update

there's a treasure box in my heart
there are many things inside
valuable secrets
stupid little things
and there's an invaluable thing
which is you, my beautiful little secret
that i wouldnt wanna share with anyone

before the world found the reason to invade my territory
i chose to conceal my thoughts about you

deep down under.

listen to my left brain.

im slightly more motivated to clean my room recently
tat's when i realized,
there'll only be more and more dust all the time
last time id say my room is already clean enough
there's no need to clean again
secretly,i havent really have a close look at the floor i stepped on everyday.

the furniture forever in its place, the plant that keeps on growing
and the voice the windows make.
i started to see the dust.

last time when i was a child, i never clean my room
now,
id ask my self everynite,
is this the "living alone " life that i wanted?
is this the life that i feared,
but once craved of when i was younger?
---

i cant believe that,
im already living in my childhood dream.

---
ahhh.. i off the computer, and the lights
i didnt even listen to mp3 to fall asleep tat night.

and
i wake up the next morning to realise
the dust can be easily brushed away.

hehe.

There was a small earthquake in the little town i lived in.

can u feel the shake ?
that was an earthquake in Sumantera
and the old building in my uni shook as well.

everyone was evacuated frm the building
everybody ran for their life
i was at home, sleeping
where were you?

i closed my eyes as hard as i could
fall asleep, fall asleep,ergh
it wont be so painful
if the building is really collapsing.

good day.

u must believe in what u always believed in,
because the world can change in a fraction of second.


that's why i say,
any moment might be a moment of ur life.

ok, its too abstract.
ill say something simple.


treasure the happy moments together.

a plant that survived in my room.

even cactus died in my room
dont mention other plant.

but
the new plant in room only needs water to survive
i brought it all the way from ipoh
wrapped in plastic bag and wet tissues
mom said its called "thousand year green"
because it is always tat green

is it true that it wont die ?

the beautiful leafs in my room will not die.

i bought an alarm clock.

i bought a classic table alarm clock
when it rings it sounds like fire alarm
and set me popping up from bed every morning

any voice could easily wake me up
i realise i dont need the loud alarm at all
it is here
only because its look

i bought an alarm clock which i dont really need
the marketing lecturer said tat
marketing is all about getting ppl to buy things that they dont really need
i think this purchase fell under tat category

but i bought an good looking alarm clock.
and im bearing with the loud ring almost everymorning.
but who cares,










it looks good afterall.

i play sad tunes.

like a paint brush without color
im on an inspiration draught again
there were tunes playing in my head
but there wasnt any sparkle of creativity

i ran my fingers thru the electric keyboard
i plucked a few guitar strings
i laid the point of my pen on papers
nothing came out tho.

the feeling is like a traveler coming back to the same coffee shop over and over again
over and over again, he stayed in a same place without moving on.
i couldnt get out of my own thought

and so,
the recorder recorded the voices of desperation

happy holiday.

most people are easily content with the amount of happiness in their hand
little things is enough to make them happy,
sometimes i admit its easy to feel happy
but they deserves more than that
im not happy with my ----blablabla
im not satisfied with what i get
my life is not in the state of perfection that i was searching for
-
i deserves more than that.
-
so ask for more.
-
and a happy holiday. :)