i think they dig me.

i think they dig me.


ah well. i give up. even sean the paul, who never listens to any accounts lecture, is mugging for the ica tomorrow.

and what have i been doing all day? trotting in town with mummy and bros (we drove in. my bros are country bumpkins.), ogling at hot guys, ignoring the envy adoring stares i get from more muts and females than hot guys (i dont know why either.), amazed by the influx of foreign workers, seizing the opportunity to camwhore while i have a good hair day, slack slack slack, never bother to remember my workload, dying to buy shoes, hoping for money to drop from the sky so i can stop school and party all day, wishing to have 150 bucks for singfest ticks etc.


[ i liked the orange, blond and black hair of this mut working in topshop. oh, and i noticed how he didnt say "please come again. thank you." to everybody who walked out, but me. or was it to my mummy? ]


i think i will be punished soon. in the form of failed accounts ica, hatred from group members, public embarrassment from unwritten speech; just basically a screwed up academic life. there! tan woan tyng has just cursed herself. shit shit shit.



so before i die or anything, here are some pictures of me.

i still hate my hair. but it really looked incredibly acceptable today. come on, i am dying here. just bear with my face.



i am depressed. i shall go curl up and reflect on my life so far. and maybe study accounts. as for speech, i dont know. drunk drivers can go get killed by death note or whatever. i shant bother to persuade anybody. i want to watch movies. i want to slack. i want money. i want shoes and clothes. i want to be anorexic and lose all these weight. i am in deep shit. i cant focus. i miss holidays. i hate my fluttering heart. i love you.

ta-ta.

xoxo.