The rate of moving on accelerates day after day, but guilt put a stop to its tugs at the perished heart that was set-up for jester of another. A renewed soul cleanses its filth at greener pastures, pastures with pillows of clouds and blooming poppies and love oak trees. Overflowing sunlight embalms my days with utter gentleness, because of you. You've made this journey safer, happier, brighter, easier and more fulfilling.

We started out with you at me at hello, brushing against each other which was apparently evident to all others while we were assuming that it was subtle to escape the others' attentions, thirty minutes of severe planning before carrying out your thought of pecking me on my eye in the wee hours of the morning, me opening doors for you and letting you walk in first and flirtatious eye contacts exchanged at Zouk.

We all speak of the fearful and the fearing. It takes courage for us to be doing what we're doing, and I'm still going to carry on doing it because it makes me feel simply, happy. A week and counting, it all began at a certain war memorial, things are still clumsy but they're improving. We both see it.

It's natural and instinctive that you call someone's mobile phone next, after you find out she's unavailable at home, instead of calling the person's home on a repeat mode knowing that she owns a mobile phone. Her daughter, me, was sleeping by the way, and had to pick up all the calls.

Woke up to a very much anticipated Friday with stomach runs, but I'm going to care less about the runs because it's going to be one hell of a Friday spent with my favourite people in this entire universe.

Needless to say, Skunky's my favourite of them all.

I could paste song lyrics here to fulfill every purpose of the deepest feelings I'm undergoing. I could collage a thousand photographs to paint one happiest picture. I could act a poet and address the beauty of metaphorical words just to depict an embarkment of a romance with you.

And I want to this moment on, because you're so amazing.

The joy doesn't seem to end and it refuses to tire. Your childlike giggles are so innocent and it's unbelievable how your heehee(s) induce my heehee(s) too. I find myself energetic and exhilerated from wanting to be my best in front of you. My friends take note of me chanting JP's dumb Myojo rhyme of you. Unknowingly, I even smile to myself while holding conversations with you. Also, I have never blushed so much in my life, not till Monday.

The language is as simple as 1 2 3s, but I'm sure you'll appreciate every bit of it, won't you?

I'd even do your 2.4km run for you. But being the silly Skunky you are, you wanted to finish the race against your will and stamina just to make me proud. (This is where everyone goes "aww..")

I'm already proud. You're my god-sent.

And so I finally found the dialogues of Bruce Springsteen's Secret Garden. The whole chunk of paragraphs was unsightly, so I'll just leave my favourite line of the song.

"Shut up. just shut up. you had me at hello. you had me at hello."

Hair!
Year 3s.
Hee hee.

I keep utilising the word "flutter", I keep feeling fluttery and I find myself wanting more flutters. We had friends pumping attempts to hasten processes, and I caught you flushing pink in the cheeks. They poked tease at the way we showed little hints, they imitated them ridiculously, and I think we enjoyed it in secrecy. You act cool too much, but it's okay because I like it anyway. It's amazing, what simple presence drives me to do. Inside my stomach it's still squirming butterflies. It was clumsy, but sweet and unforgettable.

I'd redo all this again, if it makes you flutter the same way as I do.

Afterall, I'm sure it took more than a can of beer and three chocolate eggs.

One wrong makes it all wrong. Two wrongs make it all alright. And two wrongs, it is.

Much love,
Your blue-eyed bambi

This isn't happening. Well, it is. Delighted, beyond explanations.

It's morning, say 11:13AM, and bambi is still fluttery. Key hint: Chat log.

It's in the way I disintegrate from the ugliness of a picture, turn jelly and relish an inarticulated indication, and pronounce it the best moments of the week. Festooned with aced and jolly spirits, today has got to be striking an outstanding difference. There's no call for negativity or hatred, for everything's been set neatly and accordingly to where they are supposed to be.

The weather on Sundays is always fine, with me dawdling on my pale-pink and silky bed sheets, sliding across luxurious comfort, periodically grabbing my 5 year-old pomeranian to earn a hug or two, catching lost sleep and not leaving out, doing therapeutic blogging. Not everyday is an all-smile day, and I am secretly savouring the all-smile days you have brought about. Hmm, not so secret anymore, is it?

Ban mian is still my favourite.

(Someone wants to be a cutie. Guess who.)

Songs lung their emphasis at my emotional pittance, and it has battered me quite successfully this fateful morning. I steered unscathed for the counting weeks to only ascertain that matters of the heart are riddling around a three-sixty, and truthfully I'm fatigued from the stopovers over all these years. Sentiments eclipse behind stubborn and unyielding guards, yet it gracefully flourishes at the hind of firm stands.

Reminisce comes brutal at times like this. Stupid morning, stupid songs.

I started out clean but I'm jaded
Just phoning it in
Just breaking the skin

Can you help me I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together

You're breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me bent

Start bending me
It's never enough
I feel all your pieces

Start bending me
Keep bending me until I'm completely broken in

WEEK 2 - 5 INMA2 TOMMY QUEK 3 - 7PM
WEEK 6 - 9 WANI2 ALAN RUDGE 12 - 3PM
WEEK 10 - 13 (ADD ACTING WORKSHOP, ALFIE SIDDONS 12 -3PM)
WEEK 14 - 17 COMDA BINA 9 - 11AM
WEEK 14 - 17 (ADD VIDEO EDITING, GAIL 3 - 6PM)
WEEK 18 - 21 IMDP3 JEFFERY ANG TUES 9 - 12PM
WEEK 18 - 21 IMPD3 JEFFERY ANG WED 12 - 3PM
WEEK 18 - 21 IMPD3 JEFFERY ANG THURS 12 - 3PM
WEEK 18 - 21 IMPD3 JEFFERY ANG FRI 9 - 12PM

All of Hagefive are in the same IMDP3 lectures!! Oh god, I'm so flushed with excitement I can hardly breathe. Now, to become market spoilers! Block-teaching appears quite an adventure, doesn't it? We're heading back to Temasek Design School after work (as seniors) today in togetherness to strut our seniorship. Come tomorrow, final clash! Exhileration is brimming! Can you smell the hype in this entry? I miss school so much; I miss the other four so much.

The bosses of Brandneu just gave us interns a treat at a Thai restaurant along Boat Quay. The interns are so full from the meal, they're groaning.

Can't wait to be at school later this evening!

Beautitude emerges from a smile that radiates for miles, uncountable. Laughter never fluxed with the unconditional unlimited. From far to near, friends have become. My spirit no longer jolts with bleakness, for love has been renewing like a refreshing wash of water-gush. Happiness refuses to be professed in meer penned-accounts.

Nirvana, as it speaks.

Where dreams design an emulsion of the unfrantic and tranquil surreal state of sanity, where superstitious eyes avert their subject of immersion, where the plains of imagery are surface, where life is lived by the rules of the old school, where bashfulness spells saccharine innocence, where words become divine with overwhelming depth; where mortality beyonds heaven.

It's funny how one person in the group gets hooked up, leaving the other two stranded in singlehood. It's funnier how the one person who is unavailable becomes available, while another person in the clique gets taken up, leaving the other two drifting in excessive freedom. It's funny how that one person always remains single, despite the other two switching partners every now and then, experimenting new adventures. It's amusing, how relationships become a cycle of our development towards adulthood when all we ever do is play the fools, in Love's namesake.

It's funniest, how my best friend (Xue) called up twice out of the blues to enquire about the definition of the word 'Deviation'.

Hokkein version
Li wu wa zai "li ho bo"
English version
You had me at "hello"

It's been a bustling day at work, and I'm finally permitted to leave the office at 7:04pm after a crazy day dabbling with Microsoft Excel and Macromedia Fireworks. Good news, Pimp is perishing.

Now, back to home for my first meal of the day, pooch-loving and some good ol' television.

I left the window with my blog in the internet explorer browser while I was giving tuition. My mum read the recent soulcleavave.blogspot.com's entries and shot this at my face,"Why are your entries all like bang wall left and right, life like so cham? Just put everything behind."

1 Following this, entries will be happier ones. Ugly and unglam poses for photographs make me happy with laughter.
2 I should never leave my blog URL anywhere related to home. Either that, or I should switch URLs.
3 Being old school is cute.
4 What does "bang wall left and right" mean?

Yesterday was so much fun. Really.

Bet Che's in love.

A fan of love - I once was. Attraction swirls around a negative note of phobia and it switches to retreat. I loved love; loved being in it; loved pursuing and preserving it, but always hated discovering it wasn't exactly love at the end of every futile escapade. I've abandoned them all, those immortal-dreams that kept me a crying owl in the nights and invented a sheepish ghost of me in the days, those tiring day-dreams that stretched the timespan of durability and concealed my freedom to eccentric manifestation. It had to snap someday. I guess that day was it.

I know I'm attaining the inner let-go because I've been acquainted safe in a horde of loved ones and kind strangers. I'm in betwixt memories and joy. I lost some, and I gained others. That's life's function for you.

The happines that lingered in them swarmed irritation and grim to burst a thousand bubbles. Intently, I stared into them and pondered deep. They invited me to much recollection of nostalgia, but they were unconscious. Relations were established from them and they cuddled in a safe corner of thoughts, where comprehension was not valid; where voices weren't marred by mutilation of reality. My heart was betrothed to those smiles, which raised me to highest of utopia. Our smiles which coincided, collided. A subtle melancholy embraces me, and my conscious self compelled reminders that self control was all that was necessary. Many yesterdays have by travelled by, and the happy pictures have been tailored. These are all that photographs bequeathed me with. Let these be enough.

I'm also wondering why it always rains during lunchtime.

The temperature swings a thin line of ice surround an atmosphere and a heart. Glances she dodge freeze the warmth of well-being. In truth, her eyes widened. Was I wrong, to laugh with heart, to smile in gratitude, to cry with felicity?

"Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nuture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has to end. Love doesn't."

Happy 19th Birthday, Nanny Chen (:

I miss that bitch and that butch!

Okay, everyone online is high on something now, including myself. Grooving to LOCK LAND LOLL. HWAH HWAH.

These conversations pertaining to faith and God are cushioning a lot of my queries, and enlightening at the same time.

If God will bring me to it, He will bring me through it. All I need to do now, is harness the faith.

Reality twitched, and frolicked about a suspicious mind. The mind is emblazoned with the darkness of thoughts; the metal crashes against frequency of nature. Alas, a peek of light paved its way to my vision; the resounding noises resided, and I was lifted away from the suck of doom. There, my soul meditated a pray or two and I inhaled rest. God has been kinder.

Happy belated birthday, Ah P. Zouk was fun!

YAY (:

I love you all!

I needed love, and friends swarmed to me; while you were in the midst of romancing a new embarkment. I recognise being here before, somewhere in the drifts and currents of my dreams. The truth extended its grasp for me, long before I unfolded this gigantic bout of obsessive infatuation. So now, I forcefully consume every fact I am chucked with.

Choices embalm our surroundings, and we inevitably shove our faces against these choices, resulting in humanity's wear and tear. The world outside is not so bleak afterall, life is injected with hope and grace, we just need to source the right spots for them.

This is a lesson to me, and to all reading.

Somewhere there's speaking
It's already coming in
Oh, and it's rising at the back of your mind

You never could get it
Unless you were fed it
Now you're here and you don't know why

But under skinned knees
And the skid marks
Past the places where you used to learn

You howl and listen
Listen and wait for the
Echoes of angels who won't return

(S)He's everything you want
(S)He's everything you need
(S)He's everything inside of you
That you wish you could be
(S)He says all the right things
At exactly the right time
But (S)he means nothing to you
And you don't know why

You're waiting for someone
To put you together
You're waiting for someone to push you away

There's always another
Wound to discover
There's always something more you wish (S)he'd say

But you'll just sit tight
And watch it unwind
It's only what you're asking for
And you'll be just fine
With all of your time
It's only what you're waiting for

Out of the island
Into the highway
Past the places where you might have turned

You never did notice
But you still hide away
The anger of angels who won't return

I am everything you want
I am everything you need
I am everything inside of you
That you wish you could be
I say all the right things
At exactly the right time
But I mean nothing to you
And I don't know why

And I don't know
Why
Why

And I don't know

All that aside, I would really like to thank so many people for sticking by me while I was going berserk from her ignoring my calls. I'm pretty sure I hit at least a hundred missed calls for her this week. I'm out of love and relationship, which means I needn't boggle my mind on blogging in profound and mushy expressions. Life will probably bustle around the clock more since I have so much time on my hands.

Waited downstairs her house today and tried to contact her, but to no avail or reply. Maybe she needs time, maybe she needs out.

Anonymous comment-leavers, do leave a name. I would love to return the kind gestures of concern back with your names penned. And, I hope none of you will judge my past relationship or any of its partners (me or her) because we both had our faults and I do not want the blame to be entirely shifted onto either one of us. Let bygones be bygones.

Regardless of how you're going to move on or pretend you've moved on, my love doesn't lessen. It is yours to leave or take. My mobile's always available and waiting for your approach. I'm still here. Remember that, Nique. I love you, even though it may never matter to you again.

You are there, hating
While I am here, waiting
My tears, they flow incessantly
Are yours too, the one I used to lovingly call sweetie?
In fervent prayers, I lifted in pain and shame
You, were in every one of them
I asked Him to send you back
And you, to forgive me for 8 months' worth of bad
Complacent, we both were
The blame for your hurt, I bearingly account for
Take your time, because I will wait
I'll never leave things in the hands of fate
A fourth get-together, I dare not hope for
Because you may never open your doors again, only to get your heart sore
I'm sorry I caused you pain
But I can never withdraw whatever that's keeping you insane
My attempts seemed futile
But I'll daringly travel this longest mile
Come back someday, my home forever open
To you my only love, time to you is my token

Truth is, fifteenth month didn't happen and failed miserably to take place. We wound up in permanent goodbyes. The blame is not to be wholely shifted to either one, because we've inflicted too many blunders to reverse anything back to wherever it was. Turn back time? I can't because if I could, I'd do so much with time being ticked backwards. Indeed, my heart's aching and my tears are staining my eyes with numbness and lingering hurt. But someday, when they stop streaming, that's the day when my life has began on its new leash. I'm not going to delete anything I have archived physically or mentally; it'll be something I will remember always. Regret isn't etched in my thoughts, not even now. I wish you happiness, love, peace and so much more that I couldn't give.

Mummy and June, I don't know how I permitted myself to finally break down to the both of you. I don't know how I let loose of my fears and allowed myself to run to you for refuge. Thank you for listening out to me, even though I know so much is upsetting the both of you. God has blessed me with so much, which unveiled before me last night. Thank you mummy, for putting aside all the hurt you're going through to puppy my woes. I love you both so much.

Friends (you know who you are), thank you for giving me strength.

Now, I just need to pick myself up.

Tension overworked, passion in its perishing vibe, sweat and rescue to fifteen months' salvation, but love remains superfluous.

Our lips part, and the distances lengthen to stretch for miles I can never replace. Your firm embrace releases, causing the the yoke of my convenent to stumble in wild tides of chaos. Words you graciously whisper shoots chills all over my being, as if I've been loved for the very first time. You lay your eyes upon me and I wind up in bashful utterance of the aptness and awkwardness of your gazes. Our receivers hang in silence, yet intimacy professes in word we will never hear or set vision upon. The crowd spinning around us does not mar the balm of obsession between just the both of us. I seem to be relishing every morsel of this repetitive lifestyle with you. Expressions of love is delusioned and transitioned, but is is undaunted, no matter what comes may.

Down this tedious journey, my hands are yours to grip onto whenever life seemingly slips away from your clutch. My eyes will water when your heart slights a crack. My lap will be available for your comfort, whenever things take their toll on you and you need somewhere to rest. My shoulders you will soak those precious crystals onto. My heart, your only home.

Because you see, life is meaningless if it were to further without you. And this path is spaced for you to pave perfectly into, so that the road might soothen.

Sweetheart, no other dedications could amplify such definitions and explanations, only because I love you so dearly. The way we squabble, bicker, fling tantrums, make up, churn amendments, misunderstand, are thoughtful towards each other and provide sweet-nothings; I've never been here before, and I can never afford to lose such perfection I've found.

Happy Fifteenth.

Wondrous nostalgia of a decade. Wearing a exact identity of a school for ten wholesome years. And look here, we've got Cheryl Lio, all grown up and still maturing in many ways. School days truly invite much of the memorable.

Rummaged the wardrobe and discovered an old piece of fashion. Old school, isn't it?








Last but not least, it makes me a very proud and pompous ex-KCian to announce that it's running throughout generations. Two generations of KCians.