Definition of rain:
a. Water condensed from atmospheric vapor and falling in drops.
b. A fall of such water; a rainstorm.
c. The descent of such water.
d. Rainy weather.
e. Rains A rainy season.

“You lied to me.”
“Dear, it’s nothing really. I didn’t want you to be agitated you know.”
“You lied to me.”

The rain continued falling, drumming onto the ground. Wet and cold. But she didn’t care. She stood there, enjoying the feeling of how the rain hit her and ran off, how it nearly numbed her from everything, washing away her consciousness. That is, nearly.

Her boyfriend of one year stood before her, looking at her. His hair dyed an outrageous light blue; the jewellery he worn had only one intention, to shock. Spiked-bracelet, gothic-like dark clothing. She had accepted it all, tolerated it all.

And all this time, her boyfriend has actually been taking drugs. When he promised her he would stop. And he had constantly lied to her for money, to get his kick. Oh, her friends had tried to convince her alright. But she thought it was impossible for her boyfriend to lie to her, ignored all the obvious hints screaming at her for attention. That glazed look in his eyes, his fever. How could she have ignored such obvious signs?

She smiled to herself in the rain. Her boyfriend looked at her, a sign of obvious relief in his eyes. She started laughing. He laughed with her, a trace of confusion in his actions. His laugher sounded fake. Hollow. She abruptly stopped, as she realised that she had not been ignoring the signs. She just refused to believe it. And day after day, she had reasoned for him. She glanced at her boyfriend. He was still laughing, but a slow nervous laugh.

“You don’t even know what the joke is, do you?” she asked, acting casual.

How her heart pained, when she had gone to the joint he frequented so often, only to see him, with his so-called pals, getting high. She gave a slight shiver as he remembered the look in their eyes, that look of such hollow highness. Gazing at the notepaper in her hands, that little note that was slipped under her door, asking her to visit the bar, she contemplated about hating herself or whoever it was who slipped the note under the door. For her eyes has been opened to the truth. And she could never face anyone, never be able to face herself, if she denied the truth and let it slide.

“Oh baby, I didn’t know the joke, but you were laughing so happily. I just had to laugh too.”

At any other times, with any other person, she would have believed the other party was laughing with me because of the ‘joy’ evident in my face. But taking a step back in her mind, she realised how far they had drifted apart. Why, were they even close in the first place?

It was not joy in her face, but sorrow. It was this inane sorrow which made her laugh, laughing at her own absurdity and silliness. And it was obvious that he was lying, with his fingers fingering the edge of his jacket. He always did that when he lied. His mom told her once.

His jacket was the one she gave him for Christmas. That black smooth leather biker jacket. Rain was streaming down gently down it, like little snakes glinting black and silver. At other places, little rain droplets glistened. Almost like pearls. The pearl bracelet he gave to her.

“We’ve got to break up.”
“What?!” Shock was evident in his eyes. “But you love me. Baby, just forgive me this once. For our love?”
“It’s been once too many. Love is not mindlessly tolerating and denying the facts. I won’t be able to face myself anymore if I continue on with you. And… I’m not sorry. It’s over. Goodbye.”
The rain continued falling. Silver snakes and little droplets merged together to form puddles. And ripples grew wider and wider before disappearing.

Definition of rain:
The droplets of water that once affected a girl’s life, awoke her to sense, and acted as a witness to the decision she had made. And rain droplets continue to drop from her hair, down into puddles, forming ripples that ebbed out like a wave.

Ha well. I feel weird. Imagine actually having stuff to do at 11 plus at night. No, not the, I need to find stuff and found it kind of stuff. But needed necessary stuff.

Yes, I'm packing my bag at 11 plus for the volleyball chalet tomorrow. Oh, I rock. Absolutely. Though I guess it could be worse and more last minute if I say.. pack it tomorrow morning?

I think girls have a harder time packing their bags then boys then. I mean, our undergarments! You can't imagine how hard it is not to squash them too hard in a bag (especially when it's not a luggage bag or I don't know.. messenger bag? but backpack).

I'm packing for only like.. three days two nights and I'm using two backpack (ok, I admit one of them is my school bag.), a shoebag, and a sleeping bag. Wow-ow. Maybe I should ask my mom go buy me a 'decent' bag, because it's so 'indecent' with four such bags.

Funny though. Thurs afternoon meet the team, Friday morning go back to school, Saturday afternoon leave. There's not much time for fun!

To save space, I brought the minimum number of clothes possible. Three sets plus my uniform. If it's that bad, I just re-wear one anyway.

I ditched the idea of bringing a book. Sigh. Might bring pen and paper, if there's even space after more packing tomorrow.

It's fun. Just messy.

But I am also looking to lazy days where I can just be online, read and have a good rest at night. Hopefully I would have days like that. Hopefully.

You've never seen the sparkle in my eyes when I smile.
You've never heard laugher escape from my lips.
You don't know my amazement at the first reading, and the laugher that falls out with subsequent reading.
Well. I spelt subsequent right on my first try. =)

Define laugh if you would please, as "a series of spontaneous, usually unarticulated sounds often accompanied by corresponding facial and bodily movements." Then I would have rarely laughed. How could I? It's online, my family would think I'm crazy if I laughed out loud. Besides, you ain't that funny yet. =P Oh yes, it has happened before though, when I would laughed out freely because I couldn't help myself. Cup and sock eh?

But I smiled and felt better. But I've got to say... I think my laugher is rusty. Kidding!

Thing is, you never knew, yet you still try to make me feel better, to smile, to laugh. And that makes me really happy.

What's there to conclude about gladness?

I'm suddenly quite stunned.

Maybe I should NOT have chosen literature.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart: the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand,
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight; somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

THE SECOND COMING
by W B Yeats

I read it halfway, and I'm lost.

Have you ever been trapped in a look?

Where you wished to understand the swirling thoughts lying behind the eyes, but can't seem to fathom its flow.

But can you get trapped in writing?

I write. I put effort into it. I try to express things the best way I know how. I use adjectives; I use metaphors, to show the quality of it. I nearly put my whole heart into it at times, a giddiness that overwhelms me for a moment, but slowly become this gentle ebb and flow that washes through me. It’s a moment where I feel senseless yet all my senses are tingling. But if no one understands, I don’t want to write anymore.

For what’s the use?

I write to spill. Yes. That’s what I do. I admit it now. I write to spill. Spill all my thoughts, throw it out there, flung it out.

I seek attention. I crave for attention. Call me a loser, call me what you will. I take comfort in knowing at least I don’t fabricate.

I’m not really a child anymore, yet I still act like one.

Sleep evades me. And my eyes are dry, though I want to cry.

Lie there on your back and feel time pass. Empty your thoughts, so much until you’re floating. But no, consciousness remains, it refuses to go, it refuses to go, it refuses to go! My rising panic; conscious thoughts of time rush into my mind and refuse to let me go.

Only fatigue saves me.

Cruel irony of the world, to make it so that it hurts too much when I run, so I can’t exhaust my whole self for sound sleep.

My own weak will, and thus I fall to the temptation of short little breaks – naps.

You seek comfort in the wrong places.

I know. Nobody’s going to understand fully too after all right? Words are just metaphors in the end.
~
I like this piece better than that insane "Maria" thing. I'll probably delete Maria soon, but who knows? I might go edit it instead. Gay Guide will be deleted for sure though.

Sick.
Silk.
Sill.
Sell.
Well.

Life.
Live.
Love.

Pine.
Tine.
Time.

It's raining.

It's a beautiful rain.

And it doesn't matter.

Gutsy-

Hiiiii! My name is Maria. Seriously, I don't like this name much. The sophisticated way of calling it is so... well, sophisticated. And the normal way of calling it is rather maid-sy.

But I don't mind that much I guess. It's fun! And I've accquired this Filipino accent. Well... it is rather fake, and rather lousy too. But it sure is great to make people laugh.

People like to throw things at me. Noo no. Not tomatoes and rotten eggs etc. But soft things. Pencil cases? Yep. They like to aim it at me. It's mainly to provoke me really, to make me scream. I scream out all kind of stuff. "Mummyyyy... it's over!!" "HWA CHONG!" Hee.

I'm tall, so I attract a lot of attention. They say if I go to America, there would be people who are as tall as me, and my height is just normal there. But I'm thinking if I really do go there, my looks would be different too. And my english is not articulated too accurately - english is after all a second language for me in a sense, I didn't really pick it up until I started attending pre-school.

Of course, I can go China, after all, there's tall people there too. But I don't pronounce chinese too accurately. Was never taught to focus on such stuff from young. It's ok at times, bad at others. This China guy once commented on my chinese, "how come it's so good all of a sudden." Oh well. We did have a good laugh over it though.

Last Saturday, I won a pandan leaf plant. Or whatever it is called.. I'm not too sure. They were asking questions, and poor them! No one was answering. Erm, I didn't know they were giving out a plant as a prize though. So they pointed to me and my friend and I shouted out the answer, and they went, "please come up to stage to collect your pandan leaf." Horror! Shock! Bah. I did go up though. Short people, tsk tsk. Haha.

Thankfully, my teacher was there too, and I passed it to him, and he promised to give it to another teacher. Whewww. I wished my mom would let me grow a plant or keep a pet though. Problem is, she throws a fit over such stuff. Sigh. There's no life at all in my house when only I am left in the house.

Oh hey, I do have to go now. See ya.


Does it seem like a different writing style? 41 minutes spent on it. Hmm.

Pining is a feeling of deep longing. It's archaic meaning is to mourn or grieve. Thus, it has this nostalgic element to it.

To cry is to relieve stress, to vent out your feelings, to let the tears flow, fall down. It is a form of coping.

Fatigue is a state of loss of strength and energy from hard work in all kind of aspects. There is a desire to rest, to sleep.

A loser is me. For now.

A side of me you'll never see.
The edge of what I can't conceive
Angels sing with their harps
Devils cry with their forks
Joy against sorrow.
Peace against pain.
Boiling down to nothing.
Nought, none, nil.

Hey. So I'm sarcastic.

Live with it.

Or get lost if you can't.

And I have a bad temper.
And I think too much.
And I like to pull pranks.
I hardly think about other's want of privacy.
I'm mean.
I'm petty

What the heck are you still doing here really. Just freaking get lost.