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| one last appeal before the endWHATHEFCK!
Peter Cincotti's having a concert on the 21st of Oct
& I've got a freaking Amath paper on the next day!
It can't be on 20th or 22nd, hasta be 21st!
*&^%$#@!
Sergio Mendes' will be on 22nd. I guess I could go for that.
BUT I WANT CINCOTTI!
Sistic, the organisers or whoever should thank God it's not Michael Buble
or I might just jump off a building.
On a brighter note,
I'll probably be on a hiatus for a bit.
Will be at the park suites  | | |
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I want to give him his bottle of water during half time!
& learn how to say
"my first name sounds good with your last name" in spanish.
Oh man.
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| Something I wrote this morning.
(because I wasn't in school)
A potent cocktail for urban blight.
The right answers from the wrong people.
The satisfaction in deteriorating others.
The blatant mistake, others must follow
because misery loves company
because one can't stand to be alone.
It's the unfathomable gush that keeps you alive
The perverse self which others can't see
because you won't show
because you're too afraid to fail.
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| Afternoon at Sentosa.
Blissful
Dinner with Tim tonight
(I'm cooking yo!)
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| get high like planesJust a little something I wrote at coffee bean
What happens if time won't cure you?
When the arguements & heart breaks won't fade.
You've got an act,
but no one's there to see it.
Imagine
being in the shade.
You've got luxury while everyone endures the scorching heat.
Yet you see them laughing, heads tilt back, hand in hand.
You're by youself, because you were seeking for better.
But baby, there's no better.
There's only superficial, like you.
Think
if time won't cure you.
Look back
when there was nothing to cure.
You weren't by yourself, till now. | | |
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