tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29244616789158454642011-04-22T09:55:01.145+08:00Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger51100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924461678915845464.post-41713381160950334512008-09-15T22:58:00.000+08:002008-09-15T22:58:31.381+08:00I am going to wait for you to find yourself because when you do, you will find me. At last.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924461678915845464-4171338116095033451?l=imaginarily.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924461678915845464.post-88612533427414962862008-09-03T20:26:00.004+08:002008-09-03T20:36:30.811+08:00I'm sorry that I can't be a better friend, but I need to be selfish sometimes, too. Oh my God, the least you could do is show some gratitude, you idiot. I wish you'd see me as a friend again rather than a tool.<br /><br />I'm so sick of you.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924461678915845464-8861253342741496286?l=imaginarily.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924461678915845464.post-14090761561741832272008-09-02T21:41:00.003+08:002008-09-03T20:29:33.666+08:00I hate feeling this way. I hate how I'm always expected to help people, but hardly ever have the same favours returned to me. I hate how the one person I trust enough to confide in isn't here for me right now. I hate how I have too much pride to call him.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924461678915845464-1409076156174183227?l=imaginarily.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924461678915845464.post-23676547961656851662008-09-02T10:12:00.002+08:002008-09-03T20:29:42.994+08:00On Thursday night, I was at a really low point. I broke down twice that evening during Music Night, and some of the help I received came from the most unlikely people. I never properly thanked them. For that, I'm sorry because I'm not used to thanking others. I'm also not used to receiving flowers, so I have no vases at home to hold the ones I got from this great bunch of guys. I resorted to old bottles, but the cheap plastic does little to hinder the beauty of the flowers. They seem even prettier to look at when I know that each of them holds a well-meant wish from a friend.<br /><br />Anyway, my appreciation goes out to Joshua, Brandon, Manho, Tim, Paul Wong (that striptease was epic, by the way), Gerard, Jason, Louisa, Hannah, Kristine, Isabelle, Annemarie and Jinyee &hearts;<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924461678915845464-2367654796165685166?l=imaginarily.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924461678915845464.post-23439249271475575802008-09-01T14:48:00.003+08:002008-09-03T20:29:50.761+08:00I love the month of September because its first week is always term break. I can stay at home; having to leave each day and see myself surrounded by tall buildings only tempts me to jump off their rooftops, and this temptation grows stronger with each consecutive day I have to exit my territory. Does it seem silly? At the very least, this small act of protection is an indication that I want to live; actually and finally.<br /><br />I haven't given up yet.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924461678915845464-2343924927147557580?l=imaginarily.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0