Archive for February 13th, 2007

Old fashioned

Feb 13, 2007 in Diary-writer

It's true. Women who really love you always say the same thing each time they receive bouquets, 'Why would you waste the money on roses? Thank you, but I'd rather get something else.'

So this was what I came home to on Sunday, apart from the dinner, the movie, and the pair of jeans from Union Bay (to add on to my CNY new clothes stash). And predictable me called my man to repeat that line, complete with the usual 'HOW MUCH IZZIT? MUST BE SO EXPENSIVE… AIYAH WHAT A WASTE OF MONEY….'

Eric's usual, 'You like mah… '

And he's right. I love them roses A LOT … which woman doesn't like receiving flowers from the man she loves? So who am I kidding each time I say, 'You shouldn't have?'

Really, honestly, he should not have, but since he did buy me roses, the bouquet really did complete the day in romantic wholesomeness…

Mental note to self: MUST LEARN TO SAY THANK YOU AND SHUT UP THE NEXT TIME I GET ROSES…

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The stories of my life

Feb 13, 2007 in Diary-writer

I've considered how far I've come, and I've thought about the me I've lost in these journeys. I've missed those old days, and yes, yes, one part of me longs to tell them all, the stories of my life.

Would it be so much easier had this light not exist at all, this scrutiny, though not nearly near suffocating, it is enough to leave me cautious.

I've considered those questions, and I'm deciding, perhaps it's time, or apt, ever so often, to let out sometimes. The occasional stories of my life, the things I dare to tell because I can, because I"m willing to part with these tales, things that I know you'll frown upon and question. Even when you don't have a right, you'll still question, you'll still criticize, these choices which I've made… though they have no impact on you, you behave as if I'll affect you gravely, as if I could cause a ripple through the calmness of your life.

Strange, I'm a nobody, and yet you turn me into someone.

…

I'm sitting in Secret Recipe, and surfing the net alone in the corner. Strangely, it's easy to type those emotion-tingled lines in this place, so public yet so private, where no one knows me and no one gives a damn.

I love this feeling.

He's coming soon. I have to go.

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