Booze, You and I

“Eh thanks for staying back with me ah”
“Er I had nowhere else to go too and I needed to study in peace!”
“But do you realize there’s no one else left now..”
“Huh really ah!” *turns around frantically* “ Yeah hor…”
“So we’re alone in the classroom…”
“Uh yeah so?”
“So…”

And that got me petrified of Round 2, because there wasn’t really booze, not in school of course; but ah, the after-effects.

“So we’ve gotta go! Lecture starting already!”
“Wait!!!! You’ve got amazing flying legs you know that.”

And then you tripped while going down the stairs chasing after me.

Hahahahaha I’m sorry but I really had to bend over with laughter before helping you baby. Maybe all that mock-rudeness and pseudo-ferocity is a turn-on- and no, I’ll have none of that from now on.

Hurtful as it may be, it is entirely your fault that I can’t wait for project (and us) to end.

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Because It’s Love

I think my boy has the cutest pout ever when I turn his lips downwards with my own hands. And if there’s something in the world that could melt my jaded heart, this would be it (:

I received this sms from Pest today:

Haha, dear, you look so blissful when you're with him keep smiling non-stop =p

And I thought, if my smiles indicate that much when I’m just with a lust-object (okay a long-time, very very special lust object no doubt), then what would they indicate when I’m with the bf? Is there a higher, more intense realm of bliss to be attained and described?

I’m so sorry for the very nasty things I’m capable of speaking. My wicked mouth that crushes people and make them laugh at the same time. There’s guilt, there’s a nagging sense of unease and frustration at your lack of concern. Everytime after a similar incident happened, I’ll get so scared to call or even sms you, fearing that you’ll say something that would really indicate the end of it all.

And then, that would be the end of my blissful bubble too. The one that has come to define what happiness means for me.

More patience baby, please?

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about

Currently eighteen, and waiting for my angsty phase to run out. I'm a slave to books, to unfortunate circumstances like "exams" and "assignments". My expertise is my 100 decibel scream and barking laughter. I'm profoundly in love with NYC, and there isn't a second in which I don't wish for a life there.

This is not entertainment nor a place too seek for deep musings.This is the highly selective, highly biased, highly opinionated account of my life. I just write, as I feel. No, not think. Feel.

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