IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME, BEEN SO LONG I GOTTA SHINE MY RUSTY HALO.

On Repeat :

• The Man Who Can't Be Moved - The Script
• Last Train Home - Ryan Star
• It's Only Life - Kate Voegele

hello. 4 am saw me wishing (pfft) washing the dishes that no Cinderella is kind enough to do after mummy's chicken butter rice dinner. why do all yummy food turns yicky when it's time to wash those plates up. i want a dishwasher. it's on my gimme-please list at the right panel now.

while i was scrubbing the pots, it came to my mind that maybe one day, i might actually really grow up and no longer be allowed to put bows in my hair or crave for sweets, ask others for gifts or grumble about things like the spoiled brat that i am deep down inside, demand that someone stays with me and watch me sleep or have a display of stuffed toys in my room. and then, i have to put up with other people's nonsense just for a salary or do housework and dedicate myself to a stranger whom i am bounded to by the Law (okay, and maybe the eventual exchange of body fluids.).

this thought has always been debating in me and somehow it never fails to scare the living shit out of me. i know the whole Undeniable factor but i shudder. as stubborn as i am right now, i know Society will conform me into a /quote victim of the times /unquote. because as much as i Love to live like a Hippie and live My Life My Way without really stepping on anybody's tail, i know i cannot take the Loneliness of being an outcast. then again, the Hippies never really Did It Their Way either right.

this funny Dilemma always ends with a Sigh and Forced Push to the Back of my Head. and whenever i talk about it, i end up getting all helpless-agitated and but caps letters at random emphasis words. it's like how i want to be a ballerina but i havent learnt a dance step in five years now; or how i want to be good at art but i just am not. there's too much Unability in this world that all we can do is Keep Pushing (the wild thoughts to the back of your mind, that is.).

maybe ten years down the road i will look back on today's post and laugh a Poignant chuckle and the Inner Hippie Tyng hurls at the Grown Up Tyng. or not.

aiya. so emo-nemo. must be the Choya overdose and wonked up hormones that come with the screwed body clock. to bed!