OD

So, overdose on twenty-eight amitriptyline had rewarded me seven days of outpatient hospitalisation leave.

Yahoo u yay-ed? Not for me, yo!

For me it would be a week of fuck-job with refrigerator-junkies, dvds, games and tablets.

I know, I have plenty of choices and I am still capable of leaving my room to run along the corridor in super-pink-panty-and-bra, shouting hello out loud to the hot sun. But due to being so weak, I chose to stay indoors than outdoors for the next seventy-two hours.

Yes my love, breathing in and out slowly of OD is a very stupid thing to do. 

If I have a shotgun in hand right now, someone would have snatch it away from me and shoot my lungs till it scatters into many pieces and turned my white shirt into red.

Whatever the fuck is, I am half-alright now. 

Despite being possessed by Amitriptyline, I am feeling so thankful to everything and everyone that successfully made my heart move.

Though I would be so much happier if amitriptyline kills me, I do feel slight-happy and thankful to HIM that my beautiful brain is intact and still have the capabilities to fold paper-boats and paper-planes, play Age of Empire like a pro, giving me the extra time to find a good-man and drink more water on so-much-water-earth. Yah, YaY!

I also would like to say many thanks to my sister Fzh, Smt, Dr Marcus Tan, John, Steven and the rest who were there in N.U.H for me. Your presence made me forget my plans to torture myself.

With the presence of such passionate people on treating sick-whores with their unlimited kindness, patience and understanding their needs, I bet it would be able to bring back many joy to all the sick-nations on the entire globe.

Here’s a song by Katie Melua to all of u,

I won’t hurt you
I’ll protect you
I won’t let the rain fall down
I’ll always be around

And baby I will understand
If sometimes You just want
To spread your wings and fly
And let your colours shine

And everyday
I wanna be a risk you take
Make a promise that
Will never break for life

You’re my butterfly
And Don’t fly away
Open my hands you read
Praying you’ll come back to me
You’re my butterfly
And don’t fly away
You’re my reality
Always be my gravity
You’re my butterfly
Ooo Yeah
Come on and touch the sky
You’re my butterfly

I won’t forget you
Or neglect you
Won’t let no one take your place
In your eyes I see my face

And baby do you know
That everybody watches
Every time that you take flight
They’re blinded by your light

Every day the feelings
Gonna be the same
I can promise that
will never change for life

You’re my butterfly
And Don’t fly away
Open my hands your free
Crying you’ll come back to me
You’re my butterfly
And don’t fly away
You’re my reality
Always be my gravity
You’re my butterfly

I won’t hurt you
I’ll protect you
Always be around
And everyday
I wanna be a risk you take
Make a promise
I will never break for life

Oh Hold on
Hold on
I’ll be here
OoOoo OoOo ahh hey
Cuz Your my butterfly
Whenever you need me here
Whenever you need me
I’ll be there
I’ll be there

Whenever you need me here
Whenever you need me
I’ll be there
I’ll be there
Don’t fly away
Open my hand you read
Crying you’ll be back to me
Your my butterfly

Don’t fly away
Your my reality

Always be my gravity.

NOT MADE IN HEAVEN TUESDAY

Before I start, pardon me for not updating. Don’t worry, my missing was nothing but an annoying re-turning wheel. Haha.

Today’s evening I only had coffee-white and a box of ciggie-light for dinner. God it tastes nice. For once, my life’s semi-good. Sipping hot milk coffee and smoking at the same time makes my cigarettes taste sweet and acceptable. Ok crap, I know.

Now let me recall what I did from morn till torn. *smile*

At 6.45 am, I woke up from bed with risk.
At 7.00 am, I took my shower with risk.
At 7.15 am, I coloured my face with risk.
At 8.00 am, I left home, smoking, with risk.
At 8.05 am, I walked to the bus-stop with risk.
At 8.15 am, I reached Boon Lay Interchange with risk.
At 8.25 am, I met Smt at the bus queue with risk.
At 8.26 am, Smt ran with risk to get my Green Tea in a can.
At 8.30 am, bus came and I tapped my ezlink with risk.
At 8.32 am, I sat on the bus with risk and Smt.
At 8.40 am, I looked and envied sky with risk.
At 8.45 am, Lou Read sang in my head with risk.
At 8.57 am, bus zoomed on AYE with risk.
At 9.15 am, bus met jam at Pandan Loop.
At 9.25 am, bus happily wheeled on Pasir Panjang Rd.
At 9.30 am, Smt, myself and risk were late for work.
At 9.35 am, I pressed on lift’s button with risk.
At 9.40 am, we activated out bionic nostrils in office.
At 9.41 am, still smelling for dangerous activities.
At 10.00 am, I chose to ignore ciggies.
At 10.45 am, I chose to be with risk and ciggies.
At 10.45 am to 3.30 pm, body bend, teary eyes, with cigarettes still in hand.
At 3.30 pm, I left risk and work uncried.
At 3.35 pm, I chased a yellow-bodied taxi.
At 3.45 pm, I met sorrowful four-eyed-Yzry.
At 3.51 pm, Dr David’s clinic echoed in head.
At 4.11 pm, I smelled Dr’s room full of copper.
At 4.15 pm, Dr plastered mercury manometer strap onto my left arm.
At 4.16 pm, Dr said my BP is low.
At 4.17 pm, I want a sphygmomanometer on my 2008 birthday.
At 4.20 pm, I locked my thoughts and hands underneath my lap.
At 4.21 pm, Dr David failed to break my thought’s code.
At 4.21 pm, I grinned together my teeth, so close, so quietly and so professionally.
At 4.26 pm, I lied professionaly and didn’t cry despite being triggered.
At 4.33 pm, Dr David suggested Xanax and Amitriptyline.
At 4.35 pm, my throat tastes like copper.
At 4.37 pm, my shoulder started to bent down. SO DOWN.
At 4.42 pm, Dr David gave four days to rest solitudely
At 4.45 pm, I saluted.
At 4.45 pm, I felt disconnected and left with drugs in my hand.
At 4.54 pm, Yzry walked me home.
At 4.54 pm, I called blue sky to rain.
At 4.56 pm, I felt water coming and clouds moved exactly right on our heads.
At 4.57 pm, sky wept lightly. Tada!
At 4.59 pm, my eyes looked everything in half.
At 5.12 pm, Yzry accompanied me to the lift.
At 5.12 pm, I felt disconnected still. Haha.
At 5.15 pm, I HA-HA my way to the room.
At 5.15 pm, I threw purse, handphone and keys out of my sight.
At 5.20 pm, I called Chacha.
At 5.21 pm , I asked for more cigarettes from her.
At 5.22 pm, Chacha sighed. I sighed too.
At 5.28 pm, Chacha invited me to join her and friends.
At 5.28 pm, I said that I prefered the room and pills more.
At 5.29 pm, Chacha said she’s on her way home.
At 5.30 pm, I said ok and hang up the phone and be numbdumbfuck.
At 5.35 pm, I called Yzry and said many thanks.
At 5.36 pm, I hang up the phone and be a numbdumbfuck for the second time.
At 5.51 pm, I called Smt.
At 5.55 pm, I downed three so-called-happy-pills.
At 5.58 pm, Smt said he almost reaching home.
At 6.02 pm, I hang up the phone and be numbdumbfuck for the third time.
At 6.03 pm,  I SWORE there’s metallic stuck on my throat.
At 6.03 pm, I felt torn and a semi-goner.

Now I am here feeling all perplex with coffee white, ciggies-light still and listening to Pat Benater’s ”Love is a Battlefield” with love and no peace but piles of bittersaltysweet memories scattering all over the place.

Ok time to tumble down to never-ever-happy land of dream.

And oh, for those who hate me secretly after reading this, please oh please be clever, will u?

If u dumbasses are proclaimed as smart people, I don’t think u would ever come here and spend your sparkling-diamond-shaped time reading every of my sick and demented writtings right from the start and hating me at the same time. 

Bla bla bla, that is so BODOH thing to do, ok!

Bonne nuit!

PAIN IS PRETTY, PAIN IS FOREVER

I am currently feeling so feverish, not calm, not happy and not friendly. So to those who wants to hurt me or been dying to hurt me, please hurry, help yourself.

Don’t worry, there won’t be any consequences cause I am way too weak to harm or hammer u idiots back and that is one happy-happy-news for all of u. Yes, no matter how much pain and hell, I promise never to say, shout, not even declaring war.

That’s right,  I am nothing but a pain-craver today. Yay.

I promise to endure and stay numb quietly, envying your beautiful strength upon me till my own version of melodic deaths scream in head.

I need sleep now, not light but deep, to get all paralyzed in my dreams.

Bonne nuit

Who: Cocorosie
Album: La Maison De Mon Rêve
When: 2004
Title: Terrible Angels

If every angel’s terrible
Then why do you welcome them
If every angel’s terrible
Then why do you welcome them
If every angel’s terrible
Then why do you welcome them
You provide the birdbath
I provide the skin
And bathing in the moonlight
I’m to tremble like a kitten
If blue eyed babes
Raised as hitler’s little brides and sons
They got angelic tendencies
Like some boys tend to act like queens
Oh if every angel’s terrible
Then why do you watch her sleep
You love to hear her sing
And wear purple eyes like rings
Well the flowers have no scent
And the child’s been miscarried
Oh every angel’s terrible
Said freud and rilke all the same
Rimbaud never paid them no mind
But jimmi morrison had his elevators
His elevators
He had his elevator angels
If every angel’s terrible
Why do you hide inside her
Like a child in a skirt
The supermarket’s loud and bright
And boy don’t she feel warm tonight
Boy don’t she feel warm tonight
Boy don’t she feel warm tonight
If every angel’s terrible…

BUMPED, SCRAPED, DRAGGED AND CRACKED

At around two in the cold noon, I received an sms from Abah, saying that, “Abg Adi’s mom, passed away today’s morn.” 

Sincerest virtual condolences to u on the loss of your wonderful mum.

After phoning Abah and Abang Adi, instantly I felt an extra pang at heart.

Though it was nice of Abah not to forget informing me but right down in my heart, how I wished not to know anything about the death. Yeah, how I wished never to know.

Deaths reminds me of my past journeys. Journeys that made me wanted to live life halfway. Journeys that made me point my middle baby-finger high up at the plump-clouds sky for many many years.

I know, past shouldn’t be remembered painfully but learnt happily. Especially the ones that made me run away from people that soiled my heavy heart. Till it made me sit under a tree, befriended with a tree named Deraman instead of playing with kids that wore same size shoes as me.

I know, my oh-so-pathetic life tickles many bones.

Laugh as much as u want, u idiots. Cause I don’t care to give a shit about it.

I would rather go back there again, live all my afternoons by sitting under Deraman, breathing happy-air and admiring each other till sky turned dark-red than meeting some-local-people who live just to be oven-baked under the scorching sun and to be served on a plate, with a pasted plastic smile at dinnertime.

Ok I am getting way too emotional again. Let’s talk about tomatoes and cheese, shall we?

At around 3 pm, I called Smt, asking if he’s coming with a bottle of burn-fat cream and some foods or not. Since he is at home and still does not see how important it is to come early, I straight away banned him from coming here, into my upside-down abode.

Why? It is really pointless to be with anyone today. It won’t bring any smile but only extra pain on today’s menu.

I then left my room, ignored everything that moves, went straight to the childlike-asthmatic-and-almost-dying-refrigerator and took out two cold tomatoes, hard-cheese and get a spoon from the drawer.

It took me almost two minutes to dice the tomatoes and eight minutes to scrape the cheese off with a spoon.

Next minute, I am here typing here with split-cheese and diced tomatoes on a plate. Hope to eat them soon, like eating a hot home-made pizza on Saturday cold noon.

Bon appetito.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR SPINSTER!

In half an hour’s time, I would be turning twentyeighth years old spinster, with a throbbing four-days-old-pain in the head. Haha.

Yeah, twentyeight years of laughter, tears, sounds, colours, breakdowns and memories.

There’s more to tackle, I know. But I’m glad, despite all the bruises that currently decorate my heart, I am physically strong and still looking good.

Ok. Good isn’t the right word to describe. Still looking half-good, I mean.

Oh! Tomorrow, I’m going to bring Prawn Fried Rice and Bubur Merah to AHU. I hope my collegues would chuck them into their tummy instead of chucking them into the bin.

Yeah, celebrating in PSA, my not-so-happening workplace, again.

Anyway, speaking of AHU, my hands, feets and bones are feeling cold right now. I hope my body won’t get too obsessed with flu tomorrow. Or else, I would definitely need a bestest fulltime-darling to feel better.

Oh well, even if I got myself sick, I would still prefer to reach out for my one and only thickest blanket to cover me good. Cause blankets are brilliant and they are forever better than men.

And yeah, that’s not it. My blanket’s loyal and have a nice sweet scent too. Sweet like candy. Unlike men.

Anyway, I don’t feel it’s wrong to say that almost all men have BO.

Their body-odour are so unpleasantly amazing till it can kill me straight away! On the spot. 

Worst if it’s underground. Hahaha!

I know, my perceptions of men have NOT changed at all. I am standing perfectly at 2006 still, maybe.

Whatever it is, I can’t deny. I do need a man. U know, it’s like how a farmer need a good donkey. Like that. Okay enough.

I need to go now.

I need to sit down quietly by the already-switched-on-handphone and be focus before clock strikes twelve.

Bonne Nuit Universe!

GULE GULE

What : Heartburn
When : Happy New Year
Why : Hell I don’t know
Time : 5.24 am

Finally I’ve thrown all my 2006’s calendars, love notes, love letters and all the junks I stuffed in my safe chest. 

Yes, I used to have a habit of keeping anything that a guy contributed to me, during my every first dates. And this includes mrt cards, restaurant receipts, soft drink bottles and also packets of already-used tissue papers too. Haha.

Though cleaning can be encouraging tiresome to many muscles and a tad depressive for the head, but hey I had fun.

I even smiled at the rubbish, one by one, while throwing them down the chute. I felt as though these rubbish are not just rubbish, but human.

Humans who were never good for my heart and lifeline. Haha.

After my drinking-in-front-of-the-monitor session is over, I would like to sit by my window with my zombified head, smoking sexily and wait for the sun to stare and stalk my super-shy shadow as long as it wishes and leave whenever it pleases.

Oklah people, it is time for me to flirt with the bottles and let the music in my head turn my world around. 

May all of u fucking stop the war and have a fucking good year!

Bye 2006!

Ps : Jens Lekman is coming to Singapore. I can’t wait. I hate to wait.