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I was at an all time low on a day to remember
so you are taking back sunday
to bring me to the mayday parade.
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Dear Somebody,
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Pretty please...

My Life is Over

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Buddhism teaches you impermanence - that everything can and will come to an eventual end and so we should not be attached to material things. I'm not exactly a model buddhist - God knows how many slip ups I've made, how many intentional sins, how I knowingly find myself in some of the dodgiest situations - but for a while, I never thought I was truly attached to anything that seriously. I've always been a hoarder, yes, but in recent months I have found myself being able to let of things relatively easily. I thought that I was (almost) completely free of materialistic needs.
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That is, until I lost my wallet.
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They say never put all your eggs in one basket, but one could argue that you must carry with you the things you need. How can you expect me to walk around without ID (the one with the picture of me when I was twelve looking almost exactly the same way I do today), my drivers licence, and student card. And let's say I go shopping, am I supposed to leave behind my Roxy card, the Popular Bookstore card and my mother's Jusco card (to get 10% off at Starbucks and Kim Gary)? What about when I'm feeling adventurous and want to go rock climbing - I can't just leave my Certified Belayer card at home, now can I? Let's not forget when I go to Snowflake or buy bubble tea - gotta get those frequent customer cards stamped to get my eventual free beverage. And what do I do when I meet people and they give me a contact card? Do I say "no thank you, there's no space in my purse for you"? When I need to ride the train, do I wait for hours in line to buy a ticket or do I just bring along my Touch n' Go? Oh, and I was supposed to get my new CDL so there were also passport photos of me in there. And let's not forget the main reason I need a wallet - to carry around CASH. Dollar bills, coins, ATM card.
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The wallet itself was filled with sentimental value. Silver with a matte shine. It took me weeks to decide whether or not to spare the money to buy it and I waited months before I dared taint it's cleanliness with dirty cash.
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Gone gone gone.

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I was bloody reluctant to make a police report at first - to me it was as if it really meant that I had to admit defeat to the Cosmic Powers of Godknowswhat and convince myself that my wallet was gone.
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I'm really hoping it will show up. I cannot believe that someone as paranoid as I am - constantly feeling around my bag to see if everything's there, trying to open ever car door even after I've locked it to make sure that nothing gets in or out of there unless I allow it - can lose something that valueable.
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So please, to the stranger that might have found my wallet or to the bastard who might have stolen it, keep the cash if you like - there isn't much, but send me back my important things.
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Then there'd be no problem, dammit.

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TONIGHT
we rule the world
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Spot Me!
I'm the screwball!
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Wiggin' Out
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No idea who the wig belongs to.
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No idea who the dude standing next to me in the first pic is.
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No idea why we decided to do this.
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Only know we had fun!

Dear Boywhotugsmyheartstrings,
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There are many mornings, or rather, most mornings, when I lie in bed desperately keeping my eyes closed. It's not that I want not to bid the day. No, I have no reason to fear it. I just want to dream about you a little more - be with you a little longer.
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As the dim hues of red seep into sight, I shy away from the thought of day and bury myself further under the sheets.
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Curled up and safe by my pillow, I lie there alone, and yet, not. For a blissful hour, I feel your soft breath on my neck, arm over mine. You wiggle your toes in between mine to keep me warm. Your scruffy legs tickle the back of my calves.
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Even before you touch me, I know how this will end. It's like a story played on loop. Although within moments , I will lose you to the rolling credits, as you've done before, as you will, I know that tomorrow you will once again hold me close and for a moment, however brief, I will be floating on air.
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I love you.
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On the Car
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Sitting on car hoods while the vehicle is in motion is a cheap thrill. It started with the mini blue baby where I'd get quick rides to the gate and sometimes around the car park. But that was a while back. Eventually the blue baby left me and I was forced to get rides from other cars. It's sad, I know (and from the way I've written this, it makes me sound like a car hood whore - wtf?).
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There's something about watching the world blur around you with the wind keeping your hair back. It's like you're flying, and yet, you're not.
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Of course, who you ride the car with also makes a world of a difference.

<3 ..

Dear Boywhosayshemissesme,
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I both hate and love how you send me messages in the middle of the night (or rather, wee hours of the morning. I wonder if it's because you assume I am awake and am clutching my phone, just like how I was at the beginning, but no. These days, I try to avoid all forms of communication past 2am.
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It's frustrating how I don't read your messages till hours later, sometimes longer than half a day and after I do reply, In need to wait hours, sometimes days till I hear from you again. Nothing's instant and modern technology becomes seemingly redundant. I might as well write you letters that go on and on for pages and you can do the same and I'll read what you have to say in a fortnight.
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But, as always, I over think things and have come up with a happy thought:
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In the dead of the night, when I am in my bed dreaming of you, you're thinking of me too. <3

When did you get old?
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Happy 21st Birthday,
Bitch.
Love youuuuuu <3

Hi, Friend. You suck.
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Nicholas : Love is a choice.

Jay Dee : No, it isn't.

Nicholas : It is!

Jay Dee : If love is a choice, why is it so hard for you to get over ****?

Nicholas : Shut up.
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I don't particularly want to,
but I guess I'll...
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I love you.