I feel so fucked, seriously.

Maybe cos' I'm the fucked up one.


youknowwhat?I'mtired. So...whatever

I realised i've been missing out on posting lately. I guess there's just too much that happened and is still happening,for me to pen down everytime i manage to steal time for the cyberworld.

YES, its the big ole exams. SUCKS.

Well, I was just an inch away from refusing to sit for my papers. I shall not go into that...Cos' then, I'll probably take forever in front of this silly screen.
Maybe I'm just telling myself its tough.
So, i should convince myself its not too difficult and I'll get by.


I was engrossed by my usual random musings one balmy afternoon, only to stumble upon the reason of my warped disposition. We, humans, in general, hate disappointment and failure. We scorn at the slightest thought of it happening to us - our worst nightmare. Thus, we look way ahead, trying to vaticinate all the possibilities of such atrophy. Last but not least, we eliminate all digressions - negligible or convictive.

Relating back to my predicament, I was inducing the idea of the ardousness of it all - only leaving myself exasperated and controversial within. I... was trying to avoid disappointment. The disappointment that was naturally born to expectations. When we all piece this entire vicious cycle together, we see a domino effect of adverse events that none of us had intended calling for.

IF ONLY, we would sit back and inhale deeply for a while... just, for a while. Spare 15-30 minutes just letting the mind unwind and rest in His peacefulness. And I did.

Hideous thoughts were flashing through my mind incessantly. Fear gripped me as i stared blankly into thin air. They wouldn't stop. They revoled in circles around my head like a derailed locomotive that wouldn't stop till it crashed. I could almost hear my silent screams of infidelities in my cranium - the inaudible harangue. Cold sweat trickled down my temples sending an electrifying sensation through my body. I shuddered. Shaken to my senses, I heaved a heavy-spirited sigh. It was the mind playing tricks again.

I stood up slowly from my slumped position as I straightened my back. Trudging down the stairs, I fixed my stare on the feet as my head hung low. Such mental drudgery only a Prisoner-Of-War would physically flounder upon.

I thought to myself such delusion would have to retire or I would be building my life ahead on the foundations of oppression and languid. Like a piece of land that once , had the potential to cultivate bustling lush greenery and withold an explosion of vivacious colors ... but chose to deteriorate into an undulating, barren piece of derelict dirt.

'Its all about choices' I almost mumbled to myself silently.

Picking myself up, I quickened my pace into the cottage-styled kitchen, made myself a cup of hot camomile tea, and inhaled deeply between small sips. I could almost feel myself reeling back into the past as if i was causuled in a time-machine zooming through time. The only difference was: things that mattered too much then, no longer existed as a perplexity.

Slowly and steadily, I began colouring my world again. Like how a rucksack made into canvas, I painted the masterpiece of my life, unreserved of the acrylics on my palatte. And i never regretted, ever since...

Indeed, I have fallen short of Your grace, that I am simply imperfect.>

I'm staring out into the night,
Trying to hide the pain.
I'm going to the place where love
And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.
And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.

I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old
So I'm going home.
Well I'm going home.

The miles are getting longer, it seems,
The closer I get to you.
I've not always been the best man or friend for you.
But your love, remains true.
And I don't know why.
You always seem to give me another try.

So I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,


And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old.

Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all,
And then some you don't want.
Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all, yeah.

Oh, well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old.
I said these places and these faces are getting old.
So I'm going home.
I'm going home.



Chris Daughtry Home Lyrics

There was nothing to say
The day she left
Just filled a suitcase full of regrets
I hailed a taxi in the rain
Looking for someplace to ease the pain

Then like an answered prayer
I turned around and found you there
You really know where to start
Fixing my broken heart
You really know what to do
Your emotional tools can cure any fool
Whose dreams have fallen apart
Fixing a broken heart

Now I don't understand what I'm going through
There must be a plan that lead me to you
Because the hurt just disappears
In every moment that you are near

Just like an answered prayer
You made the loneliness easy to bear

You really know where to start
Fixing my broken heart
You really know what to do
Your emotional tools can cure any fool
Whose dreams have fallen apart
Fixing a broken heart

Soon the rain will stop falling baby
And I'll forget the past
Cause here we are at last

You really know where to start
Fixing a broken heart
You really know what to do
Your emotional tools can cure any fool
Whose dreams have fallen apart
Fixing a broken heart

Fixing a broken heart

FUCK YOU, UNDERSTAND.

and this is where the story ends...

Hey you.
Its funny how you could bring one, self-inflicted emotional abuse.
Its funny how she still hung on. Tight.
Its funny how you could carry on pretending everything was alright.
Its funny how she could carry on pretending everything was alright.
Its funny how she belived your story. About the leopard.
About the Leopard who would turn into an Alsation, by the intensity of your love.
Its funny how you tried to convince her.
Its funny how she wondered if you even bothered convincing yourself.
Its funny how she trusted that the leopard really turned into an alsation.
Its funny how she enjoyed that miracle of love you portrayed.
Its funny how she cries even when she thinks of it, right now, even when you're gone.
Its funny how she doesn't know it still matters, and it still hurts.
Its funny how she beats herself everynight about being happy. and all the pretence.
Its funny how strong she is, only because she thinks she is.
Its funny how the tears still well up.
You. You might even be thinking... its funny how stupid she is.
Its funny how she still believes in you.
Its funny how you never learn, how you threw it all away.
Its not funny when she doesn't understand how the two years went by.
Its devastating. When she realises, perhaps, it wasn't love.

So this is how the story ends. Remember what the little girl once told you about her stories she wrote when the teacher told her to. Happy endings are ever reality. Heaven's playing games, when it all falls apart.


The story of that girl you never understood, and never will.
Don't bother.

I thought we could make love out of nothing at all. But you made the runner stumble...