ok so i was thinking as i pat some stuffed toy in the car. i dont know lah. i always felt that im rather much of a decent person and that friends wont simply pangseh me and walk off. or at least, perhaps, they could treat me better. perhaps i dont know how to treat people well. when words run out i simply stone, perhaps do smth extra, and cock things up. low EQ? perhaps. most probably.

so as i stroked the lion-like stuff toy, i was thinking. perhaps children love stuff toys because they can make the stuffed toy cuddle up in them without fear of rejection. stuffed toys are stuffed yanyway. perhaps they want to feel more secure, like 'hey, i have smth to fall back onto, to hold onto.' perhaps that insecurity rekindled me love for stuffed toys. so i stoned. and i thought.

hey. if, like, every1 also wants to give up on me, to walk away from me like im some god of plague, wont i be, like, hurting the stuffed toy's feelings? wat if the stuffed toy suddenly gained life? would it walk away too? perhaps i need smth more substantial to comfort myself. as a matter of fact, i sometimes treat my legs as stuffed toys. stroke the hair on my legs like fur. makes me feel comforted. the non-existent readers may laugh. i dont care. but hey. wat's wrong with doing smth to make urself feel good? of course, not at the expense of others. then i somehow cried on the car home. i turned my head to face the window. in such a way that no1 can see. i can feel the tiny rivulet of...liquid diamonds, i could feel them coursing down my face, my skin. it didnt tickle. i cant feel much. just the ethereal melancholy. and the void in my chest. of course, i managed to wipe the priceless water droplets away from my face without yany1's notice. how good at concealment i am.

then reached home. switched on the computer. went on friendster. pic 57 and 58. i dont have a choice. i have to go next week. i have to. im impelled to.

and the fucking singers better shut up. they know nothing of wat im feeling. or wat i felt. they know nothing. so dont sing about it. fuck