I prefer my soul untouched, without the need to worry about betrayal and hidden agendas. The intention to befriend and open-up to the same sex scars me, I gave myself one too many chances. I prefer the opposite sex. Blunt, direct, perfect sarcasm.

Happy International Woman’s Day. PMS sucks.

That’s the weather in this tropical country. Never predictable, always the same.

Evenings like this, I want to run to the ground, take my clothes off and dance in the rain.

Noises.

I never knew your existence equals to extreme profoundness.
The amount of ‘you’ stored in my blunt soul multiples every moment I sip.
I seek for liquid of fascination that slaps my inner soul.
Penetration of soaking liquid in my own fascination speaks of my brutal scars.
I prefer solitary at nights.
Isolation and fascination grasps my hair follicles and splits them into pieces.
I experienced out-of-body rush, like a drug addict injecting heroin in his big fat vein.
My drive to break and blame the whole world’s miseries failed.
Pitiful stares, horror whispers, shattered words.
I prefer consuming my unfortunate fluid and sleeping without sheets.

A game of perfect liquid consumption.

Current song playing: Sweet Child of Mine by Banda Do Sul feat. Natascha
She takes me away to that special place
And if I stared too long
I’d probably break down and cry

Tonight is probably a walk down memory lane.
I remembered the salted egg crab that gave you and me a bad time.
I remembered the song you were excited about.
I remembered playing a card game called Balls.

Tonight,
your purple shirt, your accent, your face, your stroke struck me.

Tonight,
I fought with my memories.
Memories of 48 hours replaying in my head.
Tonight,
I had a hard time calming myself.

Tonight,
I made a wish.
A simple wish I wrote in a red lantern.
A lantern I released to be heard in the heaven above.
Santa answered my prayer once,
this time,
I wish the heaven above read the six words I wrote.

This six words, the most selfish wish I could ask for tonight.
I didn’t want happiness, prosperity or good health like the others.
Tonight, I just wished for this six words to come true.
I don’t want love,
I don’t want possessions,
I don’t want solace,
I just want to be in your arms again for one night.

When the days soar, the nights sweat.. you still have the rainy evenings to look forward to.
When love is an agenda, somehow she made it real.
When threesome is a game, she made it simple for me.
When my day seems gloomy, it’s sunny in her heart.
Ice mint cigarettes, green tea frappucino, I’m charmed.

Today, my dream is alive.

but sometimes.. they come back’ – Peyton Sawyer in One Tree Hill

A year ago, we were laughing and giggling away in a beautiful town. For couple of nights, we were running to one another. My last night in Siem Reap, we carried a foreign conversation for 5 hours in the loudest bar on the street, without a single sip of alcohol on my mind. At the end of the night, you made a promise, a promise to see me again. We laughed about that promise, how you and me would see each other again plus introducing your five kids to my three babies. We exchanged e-mail addresses on beer coasters because Facebook is not your kinda thing.

Two weeks later, I received your email. A month later, I received your Facebook friend request. Perhaps, the wonders of Facebook changed your mind. A day before my birthday, you left a message on my Facebook. You kept your promise, indeed. We will meet again.

The three days and nights we spent together brought me a new breathe. You smitten me back to the past, the six days in Siem Reap. Reminiscence.

The rainy night we danced in Mambo-Jambo with endless whisky and champagne, the scorching afternoon we drank Guinness and smoked shisha, the quiet night we had tequila shots, Stig’s virgin Flaming Lamborghini, more beers and shots. Friday, we pampered our inner souls in Chakras, you experienced your first Yee Sang, singing Backstreet Boys songs with my bosses and more tequila shots in a stranger’s club. The endless visits to Starbucks to get your perfect Black Eye and Double Espresso. In Chinatown, we laid in your bed, staring at Stig’s helpless expression booking expensive flights and converting Singaporean Dollars to Norwegian Kroner, laughing at his witty jokes and sarcasms. The heat drenched your top, I remember the piercing on your nipple. We spent your last night in Malaysia recalling 2009, karma and life. Promises and quotes to remember.

This morning, you zipped your bag and loudly you utter these words, “Leaving on a Jetplane”. My heart squelched for a moment, time to kiss goodbye again.

You made a promise, to see me again. This time, you said next year.

Look upon the stars tonight in the mountain top and remember the night.

Here I am, at 2.43am still trying to figure out why you said the things you did on Sunday.

I am too fragile. Too fragile for anyone. I realised the two years relationship tormented my soul and desire to build a trusting one.

I am beyond torn. I gave up and you surely proved my theory. Thank you, karma.

Last night, you pulled me as I pranced to you. We made sweet sweet love. You lit the candle and kiss me like never before. I surprised you with my bad kitty costume, for a moment, I could almost felt your arousal.You placed your hands on my back, grabbing my fleshy bum. The dim candle flame lights up the room perfectly, perfecting the climax I desired. Keren Ann’s voice drowning in the background. I was making love to you. It wasn’t another episode of lustful sex, it was two person forgetting about the world’s hopes and hatred, gazing into his eyes and giving him the pleasure of his life.

Lucid dream.

I slept and dreamed. I dream of you and me, that past weeks we’ve been spending time together till I woke up and realised, who am I kidding now. You woke me up, you broke and shattered me into pieces. I was torn, I still am. Days ago, we shared moments I stole from the stars. It was just days ago, you light up my face when I see your name appeared. This morning, you killed my dream. Our kisses in the elevator, your kisses linger on my shoulder, our sneaky fingers under the table.

Like White Boy suggested, I should start counting my fingers in real life.

Conflicts and beers, I had both. You learned best when you have no help, ignorance and stubbornness – I fought with myself. Cheap bargains and unbeatable price, I lost my war. Four days in Bangkok, I lost my will to fight. I gave in and paid a heavy price. Broken, I am.

Departed, I have. I will be back and continue my war.

3 pairs of heels
2 handbags
A pair of torn jeans
Blazer for work
3 sets of kinky costumes
2 Cheongsams for Chinese New Year
3 pairs of leggings
3 belts
7 shorts
3 skirts
One maxi dress
10 dresses
2 boyfriend shirts
7 jumpsuits
33 tops
6 boy shirts
10 pairs of eyelashes

Beats me how much shopping I did in the 4 days trip.