As they applaud, I'll count claps.

Drop the apple, Adam.

Did you feel that? That lukewarm feeling gradually growing in your ribs. Which in some way, tempts you to dig, dig and pull it out, just so you would be able to feel it with your bare hands. To convince yourself and everyone else that it's real and absolute.

No, I do not mean Happiness. It seems a little fuzzier than happiness. They may be interconnected, intertwined, interdependent. But they are, in others ways, quite different. Neither is it Love, for Love is a warmer feeling inside of you that is never lost, and never found. We're getting closer. Is it Excitement then? No, Excitement is very punctual and certainly very busy. It arrives at the right moment, and leaves when the moment passes by. Never staying to grow at such leisure pace inside you.

That glow inside of you that cultivates from the bond you form and share in such unique friendships. It starts with a spark, helped by intuition, when you first meet your destined friend. And it grows into something much bigger. Bigger than both you and me. I suppose it's called Closeness.

Or somewhere along those lines.

For some other reason.

Language allows us to reach out to people, to touch them with out innermost fears, hopes, disappointments, victories. To reach out to people we'll never meet. It's the greatest legacy you could ever leave: The history of how you felt.

-Simon Van Booy

You sunk my battleship.

I will forever and always be a kid of the 90s.

Murder she wrote.

There's an attribute, you may say, or characteristic of hers that triggers an unconscious desire to seek approval from her. I, am no less a victim, no, a fool to her wiles. Now, I seek liberation.

But, contrary to my expectations,

The devotion to sensual savors;

"His pace was unhurried. He had eyes for the different windows, the people out in the open, the old buildings, he did his best to remain interested. It was necessary to stay connected to the world, to rouse the senses continually or else he would fade out of existence, fail to exist, like so many times before. The point was to stay awake, no, engaged, to pick out the details so there was some feeling of control, the empirical hallucination."

I've been reading a book called "The Swing of Things" by Sean O'Reilly. Irish by the sound of it. And I so happened to bump into this paragraph on the eight page.

I'm curious now.

From the laconic to the verbose.

Let's play pretend.

Have you ever had one of those dreams, such a dream that felt so realistic, so natural, in such a way that it didn't even feel like a dream anymore?

You wouldn't even begin to realise that it was a dream in the first place. It would never occur to you, to grasp that single-handed idea that you were, in actual fact, dreaming. Being given the ability to perceive every single emotion, touch, thought so well that it feels exactly like being awake in reality. It's scary though, to wake up from such a dream, having to gradually comprehend that it was just a dream. Lying in bed, going through and remembering those distinct emotions, that specific touch and this exact feeling. The feeling of being cut, of blood flowing through your veins and running down your arms. Waking up to find your heart beating so fast that you could hardly breathe.

Yeah, it's sorta feels like shit. But kinda cool at the same time.

Sick of dancing with the beast.

Exams, I mean you.

We scribble in lines of successions.

Simply divine, aren't they?

All the work of Photoshop I have to admit. Nah I joke, I don't even have photoshop to begin with. They're more beautiful in real life, really.

The top one goes by the name of Kimberly. She tumblrs horrendously much. Her photos consist of mostly fashion and style. Just dreadful. Look, here's proof, The Vintage Scape. And the middle answers to Timur. She blogs about photography too. Fashion photography to be precise. An atrocious art I tell you. Evidence, Mod Disposition. The last one pretends her name is Alison. Don't be fooled. I've made no mistake, her picture really is there. It's just that she's so white, your corneas can't reflect her rays. She has a private blog. You can't read it because her posts are as frightful as a lion.

And that is why they are my absolute best friends. No shit.

Run with the lions, and you will live.

Look, a picture of an escalator. Could you tell?

Only the old moon would shine on serenely

Lipstick marks won't break my heart.

Happy thoughts that start with the letter T;

Taboo

Trolleys

Trampoline

Trees

Trumpets

Tandoori

Taliban (Prasad!)

Tango

Thesaurus

Tomatoes

Trailers

Trivia

Tudors

aaand Timur.

:)

Cigarettes for you, sir?

Till the smithereens are in smithereens.

Who swims for the sole purpose of taking pool shots? Certainly not Timur and I.

Who has hilarious love quarrels? By no means Nik and Timur.

Who plays Pictionary at La Bodega Lounge from 11 to 2 in the morning? Neither Bow, Kim, Tim, Nik or I would do such a thing.

Who has a nosebleed in the midst of a Pictionary game? Definitely not Bow.

Who wakes up in the middle of the night at a sleepover to move to the living room couch for better sleep? Not me.

Who treats her boyfriend's jersey like a puppy? Never in the world Timur.

Who laughed hysterically when she couldn't find the jersey? Absolutely not Kim or I.

Who hid the jersey in the first place? Oh yeah that was Kim and I.

A prisoner's song unsung.

I asked Timur a question today, what she sees Kim and I doing in the future. Why I would ask her such a question is simple enough, she's one of the most comtemplative and pensive person I've met. She looked at Kim, and said that she sees her in an early marriage, while Kim responded with a single noun, "Bitch." We laughed, then it was my turn, and nothing. Because she couldn't answer.

Truth is, I didn't know either. I never know. I'm stubborn, fickle-minded, unaware, and childish. Occasionally, I consider several options for my future but in the end, I possess nothing. I possess nothing but fear. Nothing but fear to guide me the way. I pretend to grasp knowledge I cannot begin to apprehend. I pretend to be certain of what lies ahead. But I don't. I foolishly attempted to weave an illusion to deceit myself, and it is unfolding. So rapidly it haunts the edges of my mind, constantly reminding me that in the future, I will have no one but myself to blame.

Don't let the sky scare you.

This is my cousin. His name is Joshua Yap. He turned 5 years old in August this year. He really likes the Pixar movie "Cars". He has dimples on his cheeks. He gets sick quite easily.

Yeap that's pretty much all I know about him.

Be fearful of mediocrity.

And the stars will lead us home.

He who wonders discovers that this in itself is wonder.

- M.C. Escher

Slightly bruised, speckled and dinged on the side.

If Heaven have not mercy,

A Port Dickson trip with Myanmar refugees. It gave me a new perspective :)

Therefore matters soon assumed vivid and definite shape;

This was one of the first pictures I took with my DSLR Camera. I was fooling around with the settings and thoroughly annoying my parents, then out came this.

Here's a secret;

Truthfully, I am inexplicably afraid of growing old and helpless to the point where I intend to die young instead. See you on the other side I suppose :)

We quench fiery particles, allay the heat.

They're all in Perth. What to do? What to do?

I have loved the stars too fondly, to be fearful of the night.

Darling it ain't easy,

And now I have cuts and scraped skin on the bruises and blue-blacks of both my legs to show for it.

A 44 caliber love letter straight to your heart.

I like fast cars. No, I really really like fast cars. In a sense that if you're not driving at a 180 miles per hour, I probably be bored. In a sense that we're going so fast you'd probably having a panic attack in the back seat with the thought that we're all going to die soon. So fast that even the beat of the techno song playing on the stereo can't catch up with the number of lamp posts we're passing at that moment. Or you could just ask Timur&Jeremy :)

Because while Timur was saying that we could die another day, Jeremy was too busy screaming his head off. Oh yeah. It's probably just a phase.

Hard knock life.

If your name just so happens to be Naveena, I just so happen to love you :)

We make plans to kiss the sun at midnight.

My parents are so awesome, they grow weed in our garden.
Whoops, I meant weed grass.

Without a nautical-striped shirt

The velvet curtains are opening. I catch sight of a gap, unveiling the stage I will stand upon in society. How do I even attempt to prove my worthiness to the judges of my future? No, wait, close the curtains, I am unprepared! No no, beyond the boundary of possibilities, the show must go on. Time itself, the curtains never cease. However brief the time I possess, I attempt to recall, remember routines I have worked tirelessly to prepare. Oh what routines? For there is no routine which can sustain, uphold me through life awaiting me once the curtains open. For I am ill-fated to participate in a competition of impromptu acting. Unrehearsed, unscripted, unstudied, all is improvised. On this stage, completely and utterly vulnerable I am. Moments left, shall I run? Run, making futile efforts to escape my future? For I just had an unfortunate revelation of the fact which has eluded me for so long until today; stage fright.

But this was an evanescence,

Like intertwining vines my thoughts are. With consciously futile attempts to untangle them, them so delicate and distant. One misguided step, all goes awry. The branches of my mind breaking and tearing away, losing all original thought.
And here I am, trying to remember what I have forgotten.