Back To Fakers, Takers, and Problem Makers.

There's one of every kind.

In a few days, what I have to come to know as a little time off from my life will draw to a close, forcing me back into the rapid stream of torture. No longer will I be able to enjoy leisurely mornings of MTV, or doodle mindlessly on scraps of paper. No longer will I have the time to cover my face with layers of make-up and pretend I look anything but ugly. And no longer will I be able to let my mind drift to skies without any sense of time or space.

Yes, it was sheer bliss.

And it will be all over in a matter of time.

So what does the near future hold for me? Well, let me explain it in the most natural sense.

In summary, I would probably say : new people to fumble and mess with my heart and mind, people who bring me new experiences that I will regret for a really long time, people who pretend to give a fuck about you when they need you and leave you hanging when you need them the most, people who want to know you because they have run out of gossip, people who speak atrocious English and expect you to understand, people who have minds drifting while you talk to them, people whose minds don't drift because it was never with you to begin with, and people who will pile on the workload for you so won't be able to see sunlight for a few weeks.

Gosh, that's alot of people.

And I just realised the trouble all starts with ... people. People I can't understand and who don't understand me. People I want to figure out, but never allow me to. And people whom I don't want to know, who want to know me.

But then again, I don't like being alone. Playing the solitaire card never was a favourite of mine. I remember the times I couldn't stand being alone, and hated people for it.

But I also realise that I'd rather be by myself than be subjected to irrelevant ideas and stale conversations. I'd much rather be dreaming in my own little world without having to worry about what I say or how I look.

Never did I think I needed that solitaire card. And now, it's going to be the only card I want to play. Alone, reserved, weirdly quiet until spoken to and submerged in my own thoughts until something more interesting beckons me out of their cool waters, which I'm sure will be nothing.

I don't want to 'hang out' with people whom I cannot trust, I don't want to speak to people who make up their minds about me before I open my mouth, and I don't want to share my feelings about other people because it will either come back to bite me or I will forever be used as the Blessed Oracle of Emotions (also known as the only person who listens.)

So here we brace ourselves for the beginning of many more bitter posts to come.

This blog is dedicated to those who have just read a blog about food on plates, lack of food on plates, clothes we could throw our money away for, lives of people without one, fake dates of people which really look real and other miscellanous excretions of the mind.

Congratulations. You have just entered literature hell.



Cheers.

Acheron's Life Lessons.

For there are plenty.

Now what could I possibly learn from this Atlantean god apart from sex? Well, that would be one.

Quite frankly - now you're going to think I sound more bonkers than usual - I could learn about life from my dear Acheron. He's quite insightful and eventhough he has, well, god powers and the most ripped body, he's going through what I'm going through. And for all of you, sniggering out there and asking yourselves what a beautiful Atlantean god has to do with a teenage mad hatter, I present to you Acheron's life lessons.

First of all, Acheron doesn't understand why he keeps helping people when at the end of it, he always ends up in pain or humiliation.

I GET YOU, ACHERON SWEETIE!

Neither do I understand, my sexy entity of dilemmas. It's just the same for me: always doing favours and helping people out sometimes at the expense of my well-being, because I think to myself that it might come back to me as some good karma. But in a karmic twist of fate, I am always at the wrong end of the stick. It's always either accompanying people for little outings even at my busiest hour, or sourcing information for them, or even sorting out love lives as crazed and fucked as they are.

And I never get that back! In another karmic twist of fate that baffles me now, it's probably because my karma is telling me that I've got to stop being so nice to everyone. Just as Acheron has to stop making people feel better, I have to stop giving in so much. I've got to learn to say NO. Just plain flat-out, get-out-of-my-life NO.

So from now on, my dear Acheron, I say NO.

Now secondly. Acheron had always been treated without any modicum of love or respect. And now all he wants is for someone to love him for who he is.

I HEAR YOU, DARLING!

Same here. Not that I haven't been shown love or respect before. But the part about finding someone you love who loves you back just the same. An unconditional relationship. I can't count the number of times I have discussed this, but somehow I feel that I'm the only one who comprehends exactly what I want, and how I want it.

I will find you, guy who loves me blablabla you know what I mean.

Also, ladies should learn that it's HOES OVER BROS. Yes, you are right. Acheron did not choose hoes over bros, for he had no bros and the hoes he had were just plain disgusting. But anyway, no matter how head over heels you are for a bro, you gotta love your hoes man. No ditching them for that guy you're infatuated with. Got me?

Very important life lesson there.

And finally, thank you Acheron. My good man, I can see us discussing this over a warm vat of blood.

Say Thursday, perhaps?

Cheers.

I'll Have My Dark-Hunter and Eat Off Him Too.

Also Weres, Demis and Gods.

Before I begin my extremely self-indulgent post, I'd like the clear a few things. Those who know me well enough also know that I am extremely passionate about the Dark-Hunter series, the only other one being the late Sidney Sheldon. If you guys are still in the midst of solving the enigma I have developed here, I mean to say that I can't tolerate people who don't give a shit about it when they read it.

I mean firstly - how could you completely disregard pronounciation of their names? Their names are enough for an orgasm itself. And I cannot understand how people's emotions cannot get shaken by this book! Everytime I read a new one, I eat, sleep and dream Dark-Hunters.

It is not just another book, people. It is my life path. My life path to search, dig and hunt that Dark-Hunter and marry him.

(SPOILER ALERT!)

Moving on, I have just finished Acheron's book. And oh-dear-me. I never thought Acheron would be one to hook up with somebody - and even so, not someone as low-key as ... let's call her X. And his mum, the ever beautiful Apollymi was so sweet in the end!

(SPOILER OVER!)

And I was so overcome by the entire story I wanted to cry. The way the story was told, the moments when you thought all hope was gone and then suddenly you just want to scream out in joy. And oh goodness, the people whom you thought you hated at first, completely turn your impression around, making you love them as much as you despised them. It was all so ... amazing.

And now it makes me wonder. Do they really exist? Are there really Atlantean gods and Were-Animals that live among us? Do these dark, muscled men with hearts of gold really walk on the same ground we do? Is there really an irreversible curse that could end the world with just one slip of fate?

I mean, think about it. These guys are gorgeous. Complete walking machines of beauty. I quote : every molecule of muscle is RIPPED. And they have the most gorgeous lustrous hair and the most tawny skin and the best asses and man-chests ever created by a higher power (literally!) And finally, bodies you just want to savour - OK, I'll cut the crap - fuck like mad.

On top of that (which I'd like to be,) I have never seen purer hearts than the ones that exist inside them. They risk their lives, not to mention the entire world, for the comfort of their loved ones. They've never told a lie, never made a girl regret being with them, and never made her beg for them. And you know what? They love the girl for exactly who she is.

And you know what else? Come to think of it, I can't believe they exist. I really couldn't. There is no guy out there - I am convinced - who behaves like a Dark-Hunter. Much less, look like one. We're just going to have to look for the ones who come really close.

But in the end, if there is someone out there like that for me, Hallelujah I'll die happy.

And very very satisfied. If you know what I mean.

Cheers.

So This Is What Freedom Tastes Like.

Jean - Paul Sartre said freedom is what you do with what has been done to you.
Lxj said freedom is your brain pouring out of your ears.

I say freedom is the total degeneration of all things right - into all things fun.

It has been a month - or two, actually - since I have seen daylight.

Oh clouds! I have missed your puffy white-

Fuck, I can't do this. It's best left up to gay playwrights and Pri.

Not that Pri has anything to do with gay playwrights.

Today, I walked out of that room, liberated. No longer did I need to think about work to be done afterwards. No longer did I have to worry about what time I would feed myself junk. I walked out healthy.

So what's lined up for my two weeks of fun? Well, how about a sex novel? Or two. Seeing that Winterheart was very kind so as to lend me one neither of us has read, and the other of my dream man - a Greek prostitute. Hey, don't go throwing the judgement card at me yet. I'll have you know that I haven't spazzed about a guy, or much less seen one in real life since I got myself into the mess in the first place!

OK, that's not entirely true. I do think Jarron Vosburg from Fly On The Wall is super hot in the video. But for arguments' sake, I have not been on a hormone high in ages.

On another note, I am planning a total makeover. As in from top to bottom. Although I will be maintaining my ass, because I do believe it is quite an ass-et.

HAHAHAHAHA : Ass-et ... asset, get it?

I don't think I mentioned that I have developed this unusual taste for excruciatingly lame jokes. I promise it will end here.

Anyway, I am going to hope for the best. By putting my love for edible crap and pure fat and sugar on hold. And finding every way to work off those pounds of stress I have gained. What would be useful as well though - deciding whether my body is a quick gainer & shrinker or a really slow one. I'm guessing it's the first. Hopefully.

Also on deck, a TV overdose. The Hills, Stylista, Project Runway, Ugly Betty, Skinz - basically a complete mash-up of non-stop brain deterioration. Perfect.

Cam-whoring as well, because my natural instincts cannot be hidden any longer. And I have just received news that my Deviantart is experiencing a slow death.

And finally, something that I should not reveal but somehow my inside voice is screaming it out and I am hopelessly fighting it and in another sense it would be smarter to just let it out but I am holding back because I would hate myself after so I am not and yet I feel the incessant urge to bring it up and tell my readers the surprise for I would not like it if someone did this to me but then again suspense is murderous and I have a secret death wish for them just kidding so I really think I should let them know how about a hint just a little hint pretty please just a little totally unobvious clue stop this seriously but its a good idea that they know ...

Silence, please. My personalities are arguing.

But I have decided that it's best left to your imagination. Was it you Lxj, the one who was talking about hymen restructuring?

Now that's a thought.

Cheers.

We're All Looking For Someone We Don't Know.

We know it's out there.

Happiness, I mean. That soulful experience we all want to embark on has already been planned out to the very last detail like which hat we'll be wearing and at what time the sun should set. We've got the entire path laid out before us. It's just a matter of who. The when follows closely after.

And the sad thing about this is - that we're all treading on through this bleak world of hate, lies and misery just so that at the end of it, we can have that assured bliss. That ultimate feeling of achievement shared with someone that appreciates everything you are and is grateful for knowing you.


And we start looking now.


We're not getting any younger, you know. Already some of us are legal and stepping out from the protective shell we call home. We're so eager and so wanting for this part of life that we know is there and we know is somewhere around the corner, so much so, that we keep spinning around life like a pinball hitting every obstacle possible until we slip through the gates and end up losing everything.


Hits and misses - that's what it is. It's like we're going around blindfolded in a room full of people, poking everything in sight and feeling them up to see if they are just right. You don't know if that person you just poked is the serial killer on Elm Street or Mr. Homebody. He could even be a gay pornstar - and you're not going to know until that very moment, when you are usually to far in.


Recently, one of us became involved in what I call The Curse. The P______ Curse. And it doesn't stand for pornstar - for she is one herself. It was a whirlwind drama. And when I say drama, I mean DRAMA.


It was the classic approach. So classic, that I could have predicted what he was going to wear the next day. First, make yourself look like the hottest person alive. After, speak about yourself like you're the hottest person alive. Typically, you should say you are a model, and drop some designer names. Now, to all girls big and small, ugly and pretty - that is the most -used line in the history of picking up women.


Imagine the Roman gladiator saying : Hey babe, I model this metal junk I'm wearing, you know. It's Guess Rome, baby.


Exactly.

And after, when you have the girl just at the entrance of those gates to your evil soul, you tell her a story. Not just any story. The life and death story. Girls, it goes along the lines of this :

'I have never loved anyone more than her. She was the one and only. We were perfect for each other. We were going to get married.'

And after that it should be EITHER:

'And then she died in a car crash.'

OR

'And then she got lost. I went to every country, even the Poles of the earth just in case she might have fallen in love with a penguin. Or Santa.'

But somehow, these pea-brained wastes of chromosomes have found more innovative ways of letting the girl in. For instance,

'My father was a prostitute. He wasn't happy with my mother nor my brother's mother, so he went for Secretary. I don't blame him - she was hot. And always dressed in lingerie. She likes to stick to his work ethics. One night, I was high. Drunk. Gay-fucked. Whatever. And I found a sword. I wanted to kill someone. So I thought, who do I hate? It was either my dad, my mum (hey, I was high), or Secretary. But I couldn't do that to Secretary. She was so ... hot. OK, definitely mum.

Suddenly, I realised the key to my future. I decided to go to college.'

And after this part, he throws the girl a pathetic look. And she will follow.

Now girls, it is at this point that you're halfway in. So all he has to do now is ... nothing. You, being an intelligent girl, will call every person you know and gossip about him. And they will all ask to meet him. You will think about this over and over, playing that story in your head as the image of him passes by.

And then, one last thing. The phone call.

'Hey, you wanna hang out?'

Bingo. You're dead. Dead in love, I mean. Because at this point, you like this guy. And it is the time he's gonna start mucking you up. They are many, and they are various. Examples are :

'I think I like you.' Means don't give a fuck about you, and wow look at your facial expression.

'I may be falling for a friend.' Means I wanna fuck you and leave you the next day.

'I don't want to talk about it, but I like you alot.' Means I have no idea what I just said, but I do know that it's going to make you want me tomorrow.

Simple, ain't it ladies? But how can something so simple get brains like ours to crumble so fast?

Hopefully, after this extremely long post (genuinely sorry, I hate reading excessively long posts as well) you will be able to recognise the key moves of a player's game and keep one step ahead at all times. Because as long as you can do that, you and your heart are pretty safe.

Unless ... they are just too damn hot. For which, you leave your brains at the door. And have a Fucking good time.

Cheers.

Omigosh. Josh.

Josh Stock. Is. Gorgeous. And Mine.

Especially when he goes :

'Hi. I'm Jesus Christ.'

And then he fucks Tony up. And I'm like DIETONYDIE. And Sid is like making out with Cassie and I'm like KISSSIDKISS. And then he goes to save Tony's fucking ass. And his stupid Avril Lavigne wannabe sister (who is hot, but poor Sid and Cassie.) And then Josh punches up Tony and strips him naked, and makes him carry his sister home.

Mua-haha-haha.

Well, Tony is a fucking pervert.

And Josh is awesome.

Also why I love Josh so much is because - he dresses like Gabe Saporta in this scene. And he has stars around his neck. Black stars. And a white hoodie. And curly brown hair. And skinny jeans. And ...

No one take him away from me.

Cheers.

Radio Dreams.

I have all but two friends these past days.

My radio and my Youtube.

My radio - because it has kept me alive throughout the most dreadful of times, especially when I've locked myself in my room and glued my fucking ass to the seat. It keeps me from being distracted from the outside world - from the sky, from the sounds of rain and sunshine, and from fresh air and my dreams.

My Youtube. Granting me one solid hour of total brainless fun, and allowing me to restore myself with a little sanity before heading back to place my ass in the imprint I have formed on my seat.

I can't feel half my brain, I don't know what hunger pangs feel like anymore (because they happen so often I can't tell which is which) and also I have sprained my wrist from digging my pen into paper.

If this isn't insanity, then I don't know what is.

Also, for the first time since ... ever ... I can't fall asleep. I could be fighting to stay awake all day, and as I force my head to my pillow, I'd be wide awake. Thinking. What if this ... ? What if that ...? What if I can't fucking fall asleep?

In no time shall I develop another personality. Safe.

This exam has taken the life out of me. I don't laugh anymore. I don't listen to music (not referring to tolerable replays on the radio). And finally, this will be shocking :

I don't talk anymore.

Honestly. I have not been on the phone for ages, so much so my ears are falling off. I don't speak at home. And get this, I don't even talk to myself.

And the thing is, I usually find a way out of my issues. Sometimes, I'd get out of it as easily as I got in, or simply, forget about it and move on with life. But this time, there is no way I can forget this. Now that's a phenomenon. I have never had something so life-changing as this before. I have never felt anything of this weight bearing down on me. I have never had to do something so well that my life depended on it.

And now I do.

I hope to The Fates that I have put enough effort into this. Because if it isn't enough, I have no other option.

Mucking about and pretending to have studied. CHECK.
Forcing myself into denial and hoping something good comes out of it. CHECK.
Enduring as much tension as smashing my head into a glass-infused brick wall. DOUBLE CHECK.

See?

And I couldn't talk to anyone about this. Oh no, I've tried. For one, I forgot that I was speaking to just another clone of the tactless Malaysian species. The ones who reply your problem with 'Yes, ah? Really, ah? Why, ah? I don't have problem like that one, why you har?

I'm sorry, I just can't speak to people like that.

And the other group who do not understand just how heavy this weight is. And also advise me to evade this weight, and not fucking give a shit. Basically, they don't understand that if I had a fucking option I would now, eh?

There's no point wasting my time pouring out my thoughts. I have tried everything. And it frustrates me that there are still some things I don't understand.

At the end, if I fail, there is only one way out.

To forget about everything I had ever wished for.

And that is a lifetime of dreams.

Cheers.