I think you are really good looking (:

(:

Nothing keeps one going like good friends. 

Just feel the urge to write.

Essay almost done, it's 4:03 am now. Well done weizheng, editing will be done tomorrow and printing done on monday. Many things going on now, thank GOD for the smart decision to get a proper schedule lest I will just disintegrate, not merely be buried, under the avalanche of tutorials, readings, tuition timings, gatherings, parties, to dos. 

I am very pleased with the uniqlo top I bought at ION just now! Anyway, ION seems like a pretty okayish place to shop. I mean, like since I kind of shop at the same few brands ANYWAY, besides the hippie stuff at far east and bugis (which I am dying to visit, again!) (yacht 21!!! and that prettay dress!!!). But the really horrible thing I experienced at ION is that familier sensation of getting lost. The routes kind of remind me of eusoff hall, where we stayed at during arts camp 09, with its irritating winding corridors that somehow leads to the same place, and super unclear directories. What is this, scout school? 

Daisy's 21st tomorrow, and I've got lots of work undone still. Sigh, SOS!!!

And once again, approximately 5 hours and few minutes later, I shall wake up, bleary-eyed, muttering curses at how unfair it is for me to wake up at an indecent timing on what would otherwise be a beautiful saturday morning. 8am. No kidding. It's foul and besmirching of the sacred Saturday. 

Really, because of this, I am so going to hand in my resignation letter. One month later, no more of such blasphemy. 

At this stage, caution to the winds. You wouldn't want to end up in the quag again, do you? 

It was especially cold tonight, but here is one happy girl. I guess. (:

And she wakes up, and it's all clear. Despite knowing that such periods of calm are when her emotions are anesthetized but... what the hell. She decided to keep her feelings in check; cry when she feels miserable and stop psycho-ing herself and in the end, push herself off a cliff into a bog of useless angst. 

Anyhow, she's grateful she had people to talk things over till late. Thank you (: For one, it deepened her understanding about that particular person; the sense of helplessness. She feels guilty sometimes about not being able to help resolve the problems that he faces, and feels afraid that she might not be able to do so after hearing more of them, but she will try her utmost best to reference literary texts and give her opinion to how some authors handled certain angsty issues. 

Speaking of angst, I was looking up on existentialism yesterday and found something quite interesting. From wiki: 

Angst

Angst, sometimes called dread, anxiety or even anguish is a term that is common to many existentialist thinkers. It is generally held to be the experience of our freedom and responsibility. The archetypal example is the experience one has when standing on a cliff where one not only fears falling off it, but also dreads the possibility of throwing oneself off. In this experience that "nothing is holding me back", one senses the lack of anything that predetermines you to either throw yourself off or to stand still, and one experiences one's own freedom.

It can also be seen in relation to the previous point how angst is before nothing, and this is what sets it apart from fear which has an object. While in the case of fear, one can take definitive measures to remove the object of fear, in the case of angst, no such "constructive" measures are possible. The use of the word "nothing" in this context relates both to the inherent insecurity about the consequences of one's actions, and to the fact that, in experiencing one's freedom as angst, one also realizes that one will be fully responsible for these consequences; there is no thing in you (your genes, for instance) that acts in your stead, and that you can "blame" if something goes wrong.

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Existentialism#Angst)

Language cui, all in all, today will be a better day (: 

It's not that I am awfully upset, it's not that the tears cannot stop. In fact, there isn't even any though I kept telling myself that they are on the verge of spilling out. 

Perhaps it's my body's way of comforting myself. To actually cry means coming to terms with it, instead of being in denial. Talking about it indeed made me feel so much better and there really isn't a need to blog. But I wanted to, just for the record. And maybe some silly academic pursuit of the difference between consciously writing and writing when one's emotions are still raw. And whether letting the feelings transform themselves into lifeless words actually help.

Currently the pain is pretty subdued. But seeing their names just... stings me a little. Pangs of regret, of humiliation, yes it's that feeling of stabbing pain that I have not experienced in a long while. Because no matter how illusory my involvement are on these affairs, this is the first really concrete one. And so it's no wonder I actually feel like dying initially when I heard about it. It was unbearable, but now I just feel numb. Is it the pain subsiding? Do I finally accept that it's all a mistake and it shouldn't even have started? 

I don't know how to face everyone tomorrow, so I have to be strong. At least, try not to break down in front of them, and everyone else as I envisioned myself doing. I've never experienced this kind of thing... in such close proximity. Illusory, remember? This is the time to be a tough cookie, you know you can do it (: 

And the very least I hope I can get, right now, is to have a good night's sleep.