i hate bedok.

the fact is, everytime rong points out that something in my blog is offensive, i remove it, so if you think the published stuff is bad enough, this is only 80% of the crap i write. the other 20%'s hidden from your fragile hearts.

i hate bedok.

the sense of nostalgia is overwhelming.

after what poh liang described in his blog, i thought i just had to go see how the neighbourhood's changed.

i think the weather loves playing jokes with me. i was walking back to my old home when it rained.
poured to be precise.

and since i'm going to be wet anyway, i decided to stroll.

not a good idea if your bag's not waterproof.. but what the heck.

it keeps my mind clear.


you know that urge to feel the adrenaline? when you're looking down on top of a precipice.

i havent stood at that spot since i was 9.
once i'll just look down at the people at the bottom of the building.. and they're so small.
and i'm so small. and count the people crossing the roads, my view often obscure by the corridors.

i was so small i had to peep through the gaps of it.

i never actually understood why i was there.
why my parents had no time for me and just left me there.

and why i was punished for asking why.
and when they locked me out of the house i just went higher up.
then i'll look down.
and when it rains the stairs would be a cascade.

and i'll print the soles of my slippers on remaining dry land.
and write words on the windows of my neighbours.

i'll just refuse to go back because i didnt think its my fault.
it's not my fault.

i still do these wilful actions.
i know i love it, i just fail to see the resemblence.
or the comfort it delivers.

the people downstairs still looks so small.
but i think i'm slightly bigger now.
minus the carelessness, double the stubborness.

and how the rain made it look like a foggy mirage.
i guess i miss that place.

i'm a little old now..
i suppose sometimes i need to think through what i say, or do.
these days i cant even justify my white lies and i ask myself if what i do is right.
but does it matter? i never used to let such things affect me. or was it plain denial?
just because i dont say anything or pretend it dont exist doesnt mean it doesnt.
i've just come to the horrible realisation that if you look, if you ever look beyond that mask that i wear,
you wont find anything left.