I am such a weirdo. 

Sometimes there are just moments where I have the urge to write/record down what I have in my mind. Full sentences just appear in my head. Awesome sentences. But most of the time I’d just let it pass and fade in my head. Because I know if I start to write, I won’t know what to write. 

Words and sentences that seemed so right just doesn’t feel the same way when I write them down or type them out. So I would cease to record any of my thoughts because it would be pointless. 

Then again, I’d hate to lose these words because I know my tiny brain won’t hold them for me. 

I really wish that I can write, write, write. Just write my heart out. I have so much in my heart and mind, and because I hardly tell anyone, they are just stashed away, piled up in a corner. They get dusty and covered up with other stuff, so eventually I myself would forget about them. I would forget my troubles, my train of thoughts, my feelings at 2 am on a sleepless night.

I have a friend who would write her diary everyday, and she handwrites them. I wish I can be like that, to record my feelings everyday. I feel like that could be the THING that I have to do to bring myself out of a vicious cycle that I can’t even see. Sometimes I would ask myself, what are you doing with your life? I’m living everyday, and I’m promising myself changes which are never going to happen. Then I make more promises again to make myself better, so as to assure myself that things will be better. But it is NOT. 

Environment has changed. New place, new people. new everything. But I am still the OLD ME. And if I don’t change myself I know the finale for my college years will be the same as high school. And that’s something I don’t want to experience again.

People were forgiving towards me and they even blamed themselves for the results. Which made it worse all the more. But I am too much of a coward to step forward and say, “No, it’s all MY fault, and no one else’s.” Instead, I just sat there, tears dripping down, throat-locked, like I always do when shit happens. 

(Takes a moment to wipe tears)

Ahem. I think I have such a mess in my heart that trying to untangle a loose end is like pulling on my heart. It hurts and trigger my tear glands. 

I hate to say the next sentence, but I am already 20 years old, moving on to 21 in less than half a year. These numbers are so foreign, sitting beside my name like it shouldn’t be there. It’s like a big ugly scar that reminds me of my shitty self. I have promised myself to lose enough weight before 21 last year. But that just didn’t happen. I’ve lost some, gained some, and now back to square one.

I can’t believe myself. Isn’t there something that I want so much so much so much, that I could just strive for it? Like school, weight. But so far they just seems like a half-hearted effort. Come to think of it, I have never worked towards a goal before, no?

I didn’t have any concrete goal. Like losing X kg by X date. Or I had, but it just didn’t work. Me and the deadlines. Oh don’t get me started on that. 

Anyway, I think Sundays are always a bit sentimental for me. Sunday mornings. That blurring line between weekend and weekdays. Yikes. Or Yay.

Just a side note, while I’m splurging out all these, I’m listening to the Rock album on Douban fm. Never thought that I will rock. Oh well, I change all the time. For better or for worse.