Bleeding love by Leona Lewis

Closed off from love
I didn’t need the pain
Once or twice was enough
And it was all in vain
Time starts to pass
Before you know it you’re frozen

But something happened
For the very first time with you
My heart melts into the ground
Found something true
And everyone’s looking round
Thinking I’m going crazy

But I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

Trying hard not to hear
But they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears
Try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that the goal
Is to keep me from falling

But nothing’s greater
Than the rush that comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness
I see your face
Yet everyone around me
Thinks that I’m going crazy, maybe, maybe

But I don’t care what they say


I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

And it’s draining all of me
Oh they find it hard to believe
I’ll be wearing these scars
For everyone to see

I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open and I
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love

Clothes Maketh the Man..Not

The Balenciaga Classique, Chanel 2.55, Chloe Paddington, Birkins and Speedy. Sound familiar? In case you’re wondering, they’re not recommended names for that cute English poodle or that masculine German shepherd. They belong to a category called the “It” designer handbags that many young women and sometimes men covet.

I can name you the close to all the “It” bags, at the drop of a hat, including which season and which specific year, the handbag was launched. No, I do not work in the fashion industry and neither am I a fashion editor. I am your average Singaporean young lady who, like rest of the female population drool over the latest Dior saddlebag or that Louis Vuitton speedy.

I used to flip through Vogue and dog-ear the pages with the latest “It” bags and would constantly return to that page 165, just to ogle at the bag. I was materialistic and would crave for the day when I could buy one these bags. My girlfriends and I would send each other jpeg files stolen from the Internet and we would share our opinions on the newly marketed bags. From designer handbags, clothes, shades and even “It” hand phones like the iphone, we talked about them as if they were our other half.

I was so materialistic.

In the last year, I grew tired of the “It” bags and decided to be more creative with my dressing, by going vintage. Mixing and matching old with new and branded with no-frills. Little did I know, that people do notice.

C had made a comment and told a friend I’ve been wearing “CHEAP” clothes and that I should wear “Branded” stuff. When I heard that I was so insulted! It was such a condescending remark. I thought to myself.

That night, I tossed and turned in bed, the words “cheap clothes” kept echoing in my head and I was so perturbed by it. I asked myself, was I dressing like a cheap hooker, in imitation leather-like scanty tops and fish net stockings? No I wasn’t! Did my clothes have holes in them? No they weren’t! Had the colour of my clothes run? No, they didn’t. So, why the judgment?

They said that clothes maketh the man but I beg to differ. Unfortunately, in Singapore, we are often judged by the brand of our clothing and the maker of the things we possess and this can apply to everything in general. “Oh he drives a Ferrari (high pitch), “oh he drives a toyota. Eeww”.

Is that to say that type of brand makes us the person that we are? Is that to say we have no style if we don’t wear Gucci or Prada? Does wearing Roberto Cavalli make us more stylish? Does driving a Lamborghini make us better drivers? Are we really so superficial and shallow, that we judge others simply because they do not wear labels?

I am not against people who clad themselves head to toe in Dolce, or those who drive a SL 500. If you can afford it, by all means buy what makes you happy, but it is extremely insensitive and patronising to label others simply because they do not conform to what is your standard of designer possessions.

Everyone has a choice. Be it carrying that no-frills bag or wearing those Jimmy Choos. Ultimately, you may buy a lifestyle, but you cannot buy style and neither can you buy class. It’s taken me 23 years of my life to realize that I am being scrutinized for my choice of clothes, makeup, shoes, hand phone etc. It’s been an enlightening yet saddening awakening.

Stone cold

Somehow along the way,
I've lost my heart,
The bitterness that engulfed,
Left a wounded soul.
Yet stronger I've emerged,
Picked myself up,
Rising from the fall.
Although the bleedings' stopped,
It's empty and dead,
Cold and numb,
Towering like an old forsaken fort.
Yet I still yearn,
Like the desert needs the rain,
That when warmth surrounds
The stone cold heart,
Will perhaps someday,
Melt away.

,

Faith

I pray and I hope
That all will be laid out.

Fast forward me to the weekend

Cry

Cry by Rihanna

I'm not the type to get my heart broken
I'm not the type to get upset and cry
'Cus I never leave my heart open
Never hurts me ta say goodbye
Relationships don’t get deep to me
Never got the whole in love thing
And someone can say they loved me truly
But at the time it didnt mean a thing

My mind is gone
I’m spinnin' round
And deep inside
My tears ill drown
I’m losing grip
What’s happenin
I stray from love
This is how I feel

This time was different
Felt like I was just a victim
And it cut me like a knife
When you walked out of my life
Now I’m in this condition
And I got all the symptoms
Of a girl with a broken heart
But no matter what
You’ll never see me cry

How did I get here with you
I’ll never know
I never meant to let it get so personal
And after all I tried to do
To stay away from lovin you
I’m broken-hearted
I can’t let you know
And I Won’t Let It Show
You won’t see me cry

Lost again

I've lost another one.

Too late again,

Guess I didn't try hard enough,

Cos' the past pulls me down again,

Never told you how I feel,

Will never tell u anyways,

It's just me,

My heart's stone cold now,

Another one gone,

Again.

This entry is for YOU

PLEASsssssssssssseeeeeee I Implore YOU, update pls.

As much as you read my blog. I read yours too. And I'm a BIG fan *giggles*

I just want to eat

Today you left. And all I want to do is to eat.

Breakfast
2 glasses of milk
1 "tao sa" bun
1 slice of bread with super thick coat of nutella

Lunch
Dumpling soup (6 pork dumplings with chestnuts)
1 chinese rojak (upsize to$3, usual $2)

Tea
Another "tao sa" bun
8 cubes of Rittersport white chocolate with macadamia nuts
2 LARGE packets of Twisties (cheese and chicken)
1/4 slice of my sister's left over birthday cake (Swensen's mango ice cream cake )

Dinner
It's currently 4pm and I'm wondering if I should have KFC or Macs or Canadian two-for-one.

All I want to do is eat my heart out.

Update: I had another 2 "tao sa" buns and 10 Famous Amous chocolate chip cookies, plus, 2 slices of white bread with extra butter and jam , AND I ate all 16 cubes of Rittersport white chocolate!)

Same old

Dearest Friend,


I wish to let go of my past but it keeps haunting me. I wanted to cry when you held my hand yesterday. Although it has been so long, I still feel for you because you are my first love. I know this feeling is only temporary so I look forward to Sunday. Because it is when you will leave, when you are no longer around, when you can no longer touch my face or hold my hand, that my heart will turn numb again, as it has been.

Same old

The tobacco flavour that lingers on your lips,

Still taste the same.

Those familiar rough pair of hands,

The naughty fingers that used to tinkle me,

Til I laughed uncontrollably.

Are still as cheeky.

I never want this to end.

I can still feel the warmth of your embrace

Feels just like yesterday.

Just being here with you,

My heart's burning

But my lips remain silent

It's something I never want to tell you

You will always be the one

Inside my heart

You will always be my first love.

Time and Tide may come

You will always have a place in my life.

This my heart reminiscences,

But you will never know

Because I will never tell.

But you will always be the one.

A walk down memory lane

Seven years have passed,
Since we last bid goodbye.
Several days gone by,
Without a word from you.
A walk down memory lane,
That triggers familiar feelings
Why my heart still longs for you,
Despite all the tears shed,
I cannot fathom.
The same old face,
The usual white lies,
The broken trust,
That dissolved my faith.
Once again,
My heart’s a wreck
Except now,
There is no wreck.
Just shadows of a wistful past.

Food for the lovers

Mimolette restaurant

If you fancy a romantic and secret rendezvous in an old charming English house, tucked away amidst lush greenery and white picket fences, then Mimolette is the one for you

Situated in remote green fairways drive, in Bukit Timah (beside the saddle club), this quaint restaurant is housed in an old colonial bungalow. The stark white exterior with pretty French-windows sits picturesque a top a small hill overlooking a copious forest of old Angsana trees. Once inside, one is greeted with a grand dinning room where a large bouquet of fresh cala lilies exhibit in the centre, complete with over-hanging crystal chandeliers.

Like the charming décor Mimolette serves up a delightful French-Australian Cuisine. An in-house special is the tasty home-made bread; the fluffy and buttery texture makes it great as an appetizer, believe me when I say, you’d have not one but two servings. For starters, the classic French-onion soup, served up in a thick broth is a chef’s recommendation. It was satisfying but rather heavy. The creamy cauliflower soup accompanied with springy fresh scallops however, was airy and easy on the taste buds.

Another chef’s recommendation is the mini wagyu burgers which is dish up in a palm-sized portion. The golden brown, pan fried mini buns hug a succulent and tender waygu meat that oozes just the right amount of oil for your salivating palate.

Following which was the duck confit. Together with what seemed like over-cooked fries and sweet berry gravy, the duck meat was a tad dry and its texture was tough and stretchy. Although it was delectably put together, the duck confit failed to ignite any gastronomic celebration.

The main highlight for the dinner menu was the Pork shank. Served alongside crisp red and green lettuce with a mildly salted sauce, the king-sized portion was initially startling. On the surface, the grilled light brown piece of shank is tender and soft. The insides reveal a pale pink and juicy, moistened thoroughly with its savoury sauce, indeed a must try for pork shank lovers.

For desert, the sponge cake with wild berries is my top pick. It’s spongy cake and not-too-sweet sauce makes it the perfect way to end a dinning experience. Overall, Mimolette is a fine restaurant that serves up scrumptious western food, with a decent wine list that includes Cloudy Bay. It’s quaint and dreamy ambience, makes Mimolette a great place to dine in, for true romantics like me.

Ds, Ds, Ds

Dilemmas and decisions are always perplexing. They can be such predicaments, and it really disturbs me that I can’t deal with it. And of late, I have been going through quite a bit of the Ds. (let’s call it Ds, no need to spell so many times) From frivolous things like whether my black dressy Marciano heels matches my grey leggings to really important things like potential significant-other-half and career-related future paths, I have been sitting on the middle of the fence.

Confusion is not the word, neither is Lost. I feel somewhat misplaced but as the same time, not exactly. I mean I can’t put my finger on it. Drats! This is another example; just trying to write this entry, I just can’t seem find the right word to describe how I feel.

My dad used to complain about how “fickle” my mother. Gosh I hope I’m not turning into her. Or am I? Even when it comes to the simplest things like what I should have for lunch, or whether I should cab it home, I can’t even decide. Is there something wrong with me, do I need to see a shrink?

Everyday in our lives, we make decisions; an uncountable amount of them indeed. From daily routines like brushing our teeth, to selecting our choice of breakfast (continental or local), to thinking if we should beat the traffic light when it’s turning amber and questioning work-related solutions in the office.

Even if the decision is stem from a habitual practice, ultimately we choose what we want to do, whether it’s a conscious effort or sub-conscious one.

And if only all decisions could be sub-conscious. Wouldn’t it be great. Just like driving on a automated car.

No need to change to gear 1, if we want to eat prata for breakfast, psych ourselves and say we’ll hit the gym after. No need to change to gear 2, when we’re at work, watching our mannerisms whilst portraying a professional image. No need, to change to gear 3, to let our hair down after work, drink like a fish and throw up at the sidewalk outside Zouk. No need to change to gear 4, and act all coy when we like someone and play hard to get. No need, to change to gear 5 when we’re get upset and loved one and not speak to them.

Just pure automation. No stick driving.

If only decisions and Ds could be made the same. *sigh*

I’m seriously at a cross roads now, should I go? Or should I stay?

I need an answer soon. Dear God, please guide me.

The men don't get it

My msn conversation with DEE.

Someone please help me, they say the men dont get it, but neither do I!!

DEE says:
being an alpha male is a good thing

DEE says:
?

@~Moi~@ says:
i like alpha males

@~Moi~@ says:
metros are so not my kinda guy

@~Moi~@ says:
:)

@~Moi~@ says:
okies im heading off

@~Moi~@ says:
sPeak later

DEE says:
after you say that metros are not your guy

DEE says:
ouch ouch

DEE says:
okie... ta

Wanted: Alpha males

Alpha males only, the rest need not apply. No counting of calories and name dropping of haute couture please. Please refer to below for referrence.

"the expression refers to a man who is powerful or high on the social ladder, similar to hegemonic masculinity. In Western cultures, the term is usually pejorative and describes a man who is overtly or affectedly masculine to the point of rejecting any affront to his ascribed status"

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alpha_male)

An excerpt of my text conversation with Dee

Dee: Okay nana is home in one piece. :) you girls when put together.. Really a riot eh. Was fun. Hope you enjoyed the porridge.

Me: Hey ya.. Oh my god just forgot we didn't pay you! Will do so when i see you k.. Thanks for dropping us back :)

Dee: Oh crap! Just forgot that i didn't give you your bag too! Haha. Forget about it. :) (plus point for being generous, it's not the $$ but that gesture that counts) we should go to the screening room! Sounds really fun.

Me: Yeah it is. Really cool place :-) i'll send you the link tomorrow.

Dee: Thanks! convent girl. :) ( yes i am a covent girl, Marymount convent! Raawks!)

A: Ahahaha.. Good night cheena-power catholic high boy.. Hahaha okies i'm being lame.. (yes yes i know it's a lame attempt at being funny..wahahaha)

Dee: Forgiven. :) you have a habit of sleeping early right? this is way past your bed time, and you still have yet to show me your cool designs. Next time yeah.

A: I meant to bring it earlier but I was in a rush. It’s in the office. Must remind me..:)

Dee: Haha. Okay okay. So young and you need old man like me (if you're thinking he's in 40s, pls la..u'll be glad to know he's below 28) to remind you already ah. Must be too insignificant to you.. Sob sob. ;)

Me: Haha (i laughed, cos it's awkward) no.. Not at all

Dee: Okay. Good to know. :) sweet dreams.

Me: Nightey nightz

*just so you know, dee, obviously is not his real name, the names of people involved in the above have been changed to protect their interest, as i do with all my blog entries ;) *

Sometimes, I am so frustrated that such people actually do exist.
It can be so draining, I just want to give up.
The highs are extremely exhilarating
But the lows are awfully demoralising,
I doubt I can endure it much longer.
Dear God, please give me strength and wisdom.
Guide me through it all.

“Meeting you was fate,

Becoming your friend was a choice,

but falling in love with you I had no control over.”

Sometimes I wished you'd be more forthcoming.
Sometimes I dream of holding you.
Sometimes you hold my hand.
When you do, my heart skips a beat.
But then again,
Sometimes holding hands means nothing.
Sometimes, sometimes,
I wish.

“Between men and women there is no friendship possible.

There is passion, enmity, worship, love,

but no friendship.”

(Oscar Wilde)

A Portrait of Joy

The wandering old lady tottered along the dust-filled alley,
Carrying ink-stained sheets of old brown tally.
Her hair peppered with streaks of silver
And her trodden p.js, a seeming shade of olive.
Her coarse small fingers wavering it’s motion
And her wrinkled face absent of emotion,
While her tiny body hunched like Quasimodo,
As she squats down to sift out worthier remnants of cardboard.
A lovely young lady wanders by,
Her rose tinted nails clutching a leather, petite sac.
As the radiant dark brown eyes caught the furrowed one.
She reached into her sac and grabbed a blue stash,
Ensuing, she rested it into the weathered hands.
Hereupon, the chapped lips parted to a beam
And the tiny hands tightened it’s grasp.
The creased eyes beholden, as she looked forth.
Then a tear trickled down on dry, hard, cheeks
Oh such beautiful glee
And a heart-rending sight,
Indeed a portrait of joy!

Thy

Why this flurry I feel,

That makes my heart flutter,

And sends a blood rush throughout my gutters.

Oh calm down sweet nerves, Oh rest now, my excited soul.

Is my delight a folly?

Or a beating of my heart’s true meaning?

Glances I steal, and moments I hoard,

Just so to fulfill my spirit’s desire.

If this t’was a dream, I’d lie asleep for an eternity.

For the vigour of love engulfs even the coldest of hearts.

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

"Think of me,think of me, fondly

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me once in a while

Please promise me you'll try.

When you find that, once again

You long to take your heart back and be free

If you ever find a moment

Spare a thought for me

We never said our love was evergreen

Or as unchanging as the sea

But if you can still remember

Stop and think of me

Think of all the things

We've shared and seen

Don't think about the way

Things might have been

Think of me, think of me

Waking, silent and resigned

Imagine me,trying to hard

To put you from my mind

Recall those days

look back on all those times

Think of the things we'll never do

There will never be a day

When I won't think of you

We never said our love was evergreen

Or as unchanging as the sea

But please promise me,

that sometimes,

You will think of me! "

(Phantom of the Opera)

Urrghh!! I hate to procrastinate!!! CAM

Again

It happened again.

He looked right through me,

As if I wasn't there.

He drew her close,

Holding her, like he once held me.

And as he touched her,

He whispered in her ears.

I turned to look away,

Pretending nothing's happened

but the feelings got the better of me.

The head was spinning,

the body felt cold,

the heart had been shattered,

And the soul was lost.

As the eyes welled up,

the vision blurred.

As I turned away,

I wiped the tears,

Tears of the bleeding heart

Silently I walked away,

Once again,

From him.

To Live for Today and to Love for Tomorrow, is the Wisdom of a Fool

"To live for today, and to love for tomorrow is the wisdom of a fool” sings Tom Jones, from the Naim hi-fi. It is close to midnight, and I am feeling restless. As I leaned back against the soft, pale cushion, of my cream-coloured sofa, I scarf my glass of two month old, probably gone sour Shōchū ,that leaves a awful lingering after taste, but really, in times like these, who cares especially when I need a drink.

The news is out. It is official; you have moved on, you’ve found someone else. I had envisioned great things of us; A promising future, one of love and joy, one of laughter and tears.

Yet I had let this gem slowly slip by me.

When I first heard the “news”, I felt a tinge in my heart. And although, it did hurt, I said to A “Oh it’s nothing” I pretend to be nonchalant because I have pride. While I never really made clear the kind of relationship M and I had shared, I always thought he could one day be there for me.

It wasn’t a platonic relationship neither was it a love relationship. It was one of those vague, unspoken, mutual attraction coupled with friendship. I sung praises, grumbled and complained to friends like a girlfriend would of her significant other. In other words, it was like a companionship.

I had wanted nothing more.

Yet why did I feel the pinch? When it came to the boys in my life, I have always thought of myself as the iron rod ; Long and reliable, steadfast, strong and resilient. The wounds from past relationships have manifested into an iron guard so strong that I can command myself to stop liking someone, I sense may hurt me. If I feel I may cry, I will instruct myself to stop. Period. No looking back.

“It must be the Shōchū” I thought to my self as I wiped a tear gently away from eye. Why did I let such a gem slipped from my fingers? Was it because I always said "We’re good friends" when you asked”? Did I make you wait too long? Did you just grow tired of me?

Why can’t I learn to love again?

The thinking was making my head spin. I reached for my glass and finished the remaining Shōchū. It was already a quarter to one. I lay myself down on the sofa and silently began to weep.

Good Night.

The Act of Love


It happened so fast. I was seated in the car with L when he suddenly broke the news. With a pregnant hesitation, L turned to me and in his somber voice, he finally said “My dad has cancer...” I felt my heart dropped.

L went on to explain about stage four cancers but I could barely listen to what he was telling me. My eyes had begun to well up and I tried to fight back the tears. “You have to be strong for him, what’s wrong with you!” I summoned myself. Suddenly the image of my own father came to mind and I thought about the painful time when he was diagnosed with hepatitis. L went on, “It’s actually a miracle that he’s alive now... Doctors said he only had six months to live...but he’s outlived that”.

And although I have only met L’s father once briefly, I vividly remembered the time L introduced me to him. L’s father had a very firm handshake. He seemed quiet and stern. We didn’t talk for long and I don’t him well enough to speak much of him. He wasn’t someone close to me yet there I was fighting back the tears. “Be strong! You have to!” I kept reprimanding myself, as I pretended to turned away from L and hastily wiped my cheek.

Up till then, I had never fully understood L; his erratic mood swings and temperament, why he’d end up drinking detrimental shots of whisky soda, why he’d call me at wee hours of the morning, and why he’d go to church, religiously every Saturday and Sunday. On the exterior, L was tough and macho, who had the pride of your typical alpha male and wasn’t apt to expressing his emotions and feelings.

Yet he was always there when I needed him. He was and still is a good friend; whose shoulder I would cry on whenever I had problems. L is also one of the boys (actually he’s the only guy) I call when I’m feeling frustrated be it about work or over shopping for clothes. And although I turned him down as the significant other for now, (I have not rule out anything in the future) L is very dear to me. He was my confidant. Now I am his confidant. He had finally opened up to me.

All these times I never understood what L was going through; all the pain, hurt, grief, anger and the bottled up emotions. But I could withhold no longer, and the tears came rolling down like trickles of rain and no matter how I chided myself for being a baby and screaming inside my head, it just would not stop.

At this, I reached for L’s hand and held it as tight as I could.

I wanted to reassure L how everything would be alright and that all will be good. I wanted to embrace him and say how wonderful of a son I think he is. I wanted to say to him how strong I thought he was in coping with all of it, I wanted to tell him that I was crying for him and that I understood what he was going though, yet nothing came out and all I could do was hold his hand and sob like a child.

L’s love for his father moved me dearly. He put aside everything including pride for his father. That is selfless love. When dire events happen to a loved one, we always question “Why me?” It is only natural as we’re all human and wonder of all the six and a half billion people on earth, why did it not happen to Ah Kong, or John Smith.

Yet I have always believed that everything happens for a reason and it is through the experience of unexpected events in our life that we grow to learn and appreciate ourselves and our loved ones more. In that way, we become better persons, not just to ourselves but others too. We become selfless and altruistic, putting others’ needs even before our own, even when we are hurting. And I saw it in L.

As I pulled my hand from L’s to brush my wet cheeks, I muttered “Have faith L, it’s hard I know but everything happens for a reason.” Slowly, the car pulled to a stopped, I hugged him and whispered “Take care”.

IT's ALL about the money.


Midweek. I always dread midweek. It’s neither here nor there. Not black or white. Just grey, very grey. As a pretty structured person, I detest the idea that something could be vague and ambiguous. Unfortunately it annoys and frustrates me when things become very grey and we become borderless, vulnerable and helpless. I call it the Grey syndrome. I wiki (wikipedia) the colour grey and this was what I found.

…“In a moral sense grey is either used ,pejoratively to describe situations that have no clear moral value, …Grey is associated with autumn, bad weather and sadness… “

I have been having the worst of weeks at work. My punters have been doing a tremendous amount of deals away and my numbers are simply weak and pale in comparison to my competitors. On top of that, I am getting heavier, (I was five kilos lighter) my liver is suffering from the 10 months (and counting) of alcohol intoxication and my ass is getting bigger from that 12 hour of sitting in an office chair. The most upsetting part is that despite all these the physical brutalisation, my salary has remained unchanged.

Outsiders, who have heard of my job, assume that I am paid “shit loads”. But the truth is far from it. I am getting, as my Lao ban says “fark all”. Lately, I have been extremely disgruntled with work only because I feel shortchanged and undervalue. Half a year ago, I would be really sharp and on my toes, nothing down every single price we had. As well to do as we all maybe, realistically the moola still counts.

Do you mean to say I traded in my blue kebaya for this abusive, putting-on-weight, liver killing job for less that I was getting before? It’s such a tough industry, on hindsight; I sometimes wonder why I had traded the glamourous uniform for this.

I don’t feel motivated anymore. Nothing drives me anymore. On the outside, I may giggle and laugh like a little wind-up doll but after seeing the figures my Lao ban sent me, I seriously feel like tendering my resignation tomorrow. I’ve never felt so drained.

There’s so much I wish to write and grumble about, and explain the other job offers I have, offering me twice my moola (Which I carelessly turned down) But I’m feeling so exhausted, I can’t bring myself to type another word. As I type, my eyelids feel like they weigh a ton, and I’m only feeling like this because I’m upset and want to sleep my worries away.

I’m sorry. I'm down with the grey syndrome. Good night.

JUST FOR YOU

1984- The year I came to this world.

1988- Learnt the art of socialising

1990- Met my best friend

1993- First crush

1994- Another crush

1996- Realised maths wasn't my thing

1997- Realised maths WAS my thing

1998-First "official boyfriend"

1999-Learnt a new language

2000-Learnt I love to write

2002-My first love

2003-First cut

2004-Travelled the world

2005-Entered a beauty pageant

2006-New job, new boys (haha)

2007- New blog