January 24th, 2002

Charah coffee

for all the best friends

Still upset about the bad mark. In fact, I'm in school as we speak and it's recess. I never skip recess, but I haven't the feeling/heart to do anything but listen to myself talk. I am sick of that. I don't know how many people live inside my head, but I wish they'd all just fuck off so that I could be left in peace.

And you know what is the most disheartening thing? No one has said a word to me. I'm surrounded by 28 people here, and no one has said anything to me. Am I supposed to do the ice-breaking myself? Um, I'm sorry, but it's just not what I do. I'm just feeling so fucked up right now. I've written two more depressing poems, and I don't like them. I just want to go home and sleep til I die, okay? It's not suicide, as suicide means killing yourself, and sleeping til you die isn't killing yourself. It's a natural death. Suicide's an unnatural one, scientifically speaking.

Quite obvious that I haven't got a point whatsoever. People are so self-absorbed and awkward and full of themselves. Why do we even exist? We're the catatrosphe of the world, let's face it. It's better off for Earth if we all died right now, every single one of us. We contribute largely to pollution, and we don't even give a flying fuck when one of us is depressed or whatever. And the worst thing is! You still claim you do. Talk about a load of cod! I haven't seen such hypocrisy that doesn't come from myself. It's so full of shit, you're so full of shit, and I really hate you. Every single one of you. The next time you even consider telling me that you care, think about where you've been when it's obvious I needed someone. Think about that, and if you still think it's "all right" to feed me with such blatant lies, please do the world a favour and kill yourself. The world doesn't need you. I don't need you. I don't need anyone but myself.

Charah coffee

you can only find yourself

Does anyone in this world truly know who they are? Couple of weeks or so back during my ECA, the teacher gave us a set of "deep" questions and we were supposed to answer them in a group. My question was, "Would I rather be someplace else? Why?" I said yes, because I don't like Singapore, next question please. Then the teacher came over and asked us to share our answers with her. When it was my turn, I was off about how unexciting Singapore is (for it is), and how I wish to get out of the country and live somewhere else for a few years to experience a different life. Because I cannot see myself settling into a dull 9 to 5 job that Singaporeans seem to be stuck with...you go to work, you come home, get pissed off by your family, go to bed, wake up, go to work...it's the same thing all the time. I can't do that. I don't know what I want, but what I do know is, it's not that.

But anyway, another question was, "Who am I?" Like, how deep, no? (One was "What is the meaning of life?") My teacher likes to talk a lot, so she was sharing with the entire society, like, nobody really knows their true self, etc. I think it's true. 'Cause...do I know who I am? Yes, I know my name, I can write it, I can spell it, I can spell it in Chinese. But that's simply the surface stuff. If you ask me to give you a detailed description of the person I truly am, I think I'd score a zero. But it's okay, because it doesn't really matter. I think I believe in reincarnation, though I'm mainly undecided (definitely do not believe in the traditional concept of heaven and hell, or of creation, etc). 'Cause if we really enter after lives, then we've got an entire lifetime to discover our true selves.

Just a side note: I like pain. Physical pain. You know when you scratch your arm, like you dig your fingernails into your skin really hard and scratch? I love that tingling feeling on the skin. Perhaps it's fucked up, but I love it. It's strangely comforting, numbing. I wouldn't cut though, I'm scared of knives. But then, I say that now...