keep looping Santana tracks. i feel like i’m suspended in time. sigh. fuck my dates, i’m going to lie in bed all day till drinks at night! and then i will get smashed three nights in a row, and agonize over my assignments and deadlines and event and tests on sunday.
sounds like a plan?
by Anne Sexton
What is reality?
I am a plaster doll; I pose
with eyes that cut open without landfall or nightfall
upon some shellacked and grinning person,
eyes that open, blue, steel, and close.
Am I approximately an I. Magnin transplant?
I have hair, black angel,
black angel-stuffing to comb,
nylon legs, luminous arms
and some advertised clothes.
I live in a doll’s house
with four chairs,
a counterfeit table, a flat roof
and a big front door.
Many have come to such a small crossroad.
There is an iron bed,
(Life enlarges, life takes aim)
a cardboard floor,
windows that flash open on someone’s city,
and little more.
Someone plays with me,
plants me in the all-electric kitchen,
Is this what Mrs. Rombauer said?
Someone pretends with me –
I am walled in solid by their noise –
or puts me upon their straight bed.
They think I am me!
Their warmth? Their warmth is not a friend!
They pry my mouth for their cups of gin
and their stale bread.
What is reality
to this synthetic doll
who should smile, who should shift gears,
should spring the doors open in a wholesome disorder,
and have no evidence of ruin or fears?
But I would cry,
rooted into the wall that
was once my mother,
if I could remember how
and if I had the tears.
i have forgotten my terrible tolerance towards cheap alcohol! ;(
stayed over at SS15 last night, ‘cos it was Mindy’s 19th. was supposed to work on PR Case Study and get started on my research paper, but after class we dropped by Subang Parade and then Sunway Pyramid. had BKT for dinner (*orgasmic*), and then headed over to KK Mart.
(all of us said no to clubbing because … of all the shit we’ve got in our blood system HAHA, in case of a raid. no seriously.)
started drinking and smoking Js at about 1AM. the high is incomparable, being drunk and stoned at the same time. it was a great night ;) i remember laughing with bobby for about fifteen minutes at the bong. we were just. laughing. at the bong. yeah don’t ask. i was so gone though! embarrassing, especially since i’m supposed to be the alcoholic.
SORRY! i don’t digest cheap liquor well! ;(
it’s not a lame excuse. ;(
B1 stuck right by my side the whole, entire night. i woke up with him lying down next to me.
oh my god the hangover. all of us skipped our 10AM class, but i had no choice but to go chair one last event meeting at 12PM. rushed back to their place to finish up research, which btw turned out very shitty. i’m slacking this semester ;( bye 4.0.
it’s friday night!
am going to break my three-weeks no-clubbing dry spell.
hopefully no raids.
… or you know what, maybe i’ll fuck that. the risk is too big. i’m gonna make other plans. football tonight?
so really, stop kidding yourself. who are you lying to? it wasn’t all that awesome the first time around. or the second. neither was the third. run along now, Pussy. i’ve downgraded your nickname from a pseudo-cool Malaysian car to … a cowardly vagina. does that not explain itself? all that talk about telling things to your face, and wanting to meet up right NOW … pfft. when push comes to shove, you proved that you’re nothing more than just a pretty face with ugly tattoos. stop messing with the wrong people.
go ahead and be proud of being my leftovers.
it’s the only thing you’ve got going.
till V picks me up for our date. god, why did i even agree to this? it seems almost cruel. he’s waited four years. and i am just truly not interested.
in fact, come to think of it:
i’m not interested in the rest of them.
“i’ve never really understood why it was me, why it was you.” neither have i. we looked good together. i’ve been thinking about you, the past few days. maybe it’s the tequila speaking, but … yeah. the odd thing is, i’ve stayed friends with all my ex-es. in fact, ozeir and me were really close for a while back then. but i can’t imagine being with you that way. i can’t imagine meeting you up for dinner and telling you all about my latest boy escapades, or college woes; likewise, listening to you talk about the girls you’ve slept with, or family problems. i can’t imagine sitting next to you in a movie and not hold hands. i can’t imagine clubbing or getting drunk with you, as a good friend or not.
it’s all or nothing, and i guess we’ve made our choices.
i’m going to have troubles sleeping tonight.
a friend asked me about stonerboy. wow. honestly, what can i say? i’m allergic to Clingy People. i did issue prior warnings, note the plural. the right thing to do would be to say i’m sorry … but fuck, who am i kidding? i’m not.
in fact, i’m not sorry about all the others.
what’s there to be sorry about?
wow, God, listen to myself.
the last one has effectively ruined me for other guys. that’s what i am, you know: ruined. dispassionate. absolutely stone cold. if i was cautious with trust before, i am now fully-armored and surrounded by monstrously-sized walls.
the bitch is back.