a call for her.
I'm getting tired of all this crap.
Calling you doesn't seem to have much of a difference.
I can already predict what your reaction would be if I call you again.
'Can you stop calling me? Very irritating.'
Followed by the driiaaang sound that my handphone would give when the call ends.
Besides, this call proved to be rather traumatic. I mean. After hearing the 'driiaaang', I practically stoned there in my room looking out into the night sky, holding onto the window grills for support. I know I needed to get out of the room before I get crushed by my own inertia. But then again I needed to calm myself down, and make sure that my voice doesn't sound weird in any way. I don't need to be comforted or anything by anyone face to face. It'd just make me feel even more useless.
Thanks for nothing.
I'm retarded, but not stupid.
I'm afflicted with this retardation--that of liking you.
But I'm not stupid enough to think that things would suddenly turn out right.
But yet I'm foolish enough to even try and see into the future, to speculate whether 10years down the road, I'd be with you not.
But then again, deep down, I know it's impossible. Yet the hopeful bubble remains.
Please, burst it. It needs some bursting. I'd get over it sooner than you expect.
But. But you won't. And I'm supposed to live with this bubble for the rest of my life, or at least until it bursts by itself.
I don't see a future with this curse ending early.
Which reminds me--my MSN is a mood-detector. It somehow detected my mood and switched itself off. Tio DC.
I guess I should be touched by its gesture of concern.
But I'm not. Was rather pissed. Get your big feet into my small shoes and think while blisters form--would I want my MSN to conk up on me when I'm rather much perturbed?
The answer is apparent.
I'm tired, I want to sleep, I want an answer from you!
Dammit.
Describing me as confused is an understatement.
You know, seriously, even Mrs Oh noticed my lack of desire for studying.
And the report book says it all.
All the student profiling.
Out of the 9, 7came in with 'needs improvement on his attitude'.
The 8th was a poem, written by the ever-understanding Lim-wong. And it said about how she placed high hopes of me and ended up crying because I CMI.
Thanks for nothing.
The last one was English.
I wonder why Mdm Jasmine didn't mark me down or something.
Wait. Lemme refer.
Wait. The report book is missing. Never mind.
Moral of the story? Give me an answer. And I'd get a life.
Oh, by the way. You people who've got nothing to do with the above mentioned shouldn't have read the above.
Oops. I guess it still isn't too late.
And I know that humans won't click on links or copy them and paste them to search for, but I'm going to do so anyway, in the hopes of someone getting infected and liking that song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qaDBKmLpL0
But then again I must be joking and dreaming.
Forget it.
-- 12/18/2007 12:45:00 AM
