my memory is cruel

I was bored for the whole of today. (yesterday)

I was just about to resign to fate when S the cat texted me and yeah, it was a night out with P and him. It was a good night.

I got "My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me", a collection of new fairy tales inspired by old ones.

It's so hard getting me hooked to anything in print nowadays. The Lovely Bones was the only book I just had to finish so badly (although I didn't want The Picture Of Dorian Gray to end and I took the longest time reading that vintage thing).

We had dinner at Quiznos because Toast at Taka was closed.
When there's nowhere to go in Orchard, Quiznos is never a bad resort.

S didn't really tell us what type of guy he's really into, that secretive shit. 

If a TV show could describe our lives, S's would be Desperate Housewives and P's and mine would be Friends.

He thinks he's a Chandler and I think I'm a Phoebe. hmm. *shrugs*
Yeah I have been so bad at making conversations that I'm resorting to asking questions like that.

So we caught Crazy, Stupid, Love and it made me laugh a lot.

I cried two times and I laughed throughout those tears- I really do not know what got into me.

I think I was happy-sad. It was bittersweet.

Mm I am very lucky to have friends who are not afraid of watching movies with me.

Friends who don't complain about my laughter or what I laugh at and I honestly felt happy when S let out his Maleficent laughs throughout the movie as well. P let out the occasional "heh heh". 

I remember C's mom told me to stop laughing in a lift once and I wanted to hit her.

Anyway I don't know if I believe in soul mates all over again.
What if you feel so right about that one person but he doesn't feel the same way about you?
That's gotta suck.

P told me over dinner that you know you really felt for that someone if, let's say 20 years down the road, something still triggers a memory of them. Something: like conversations, bus stops, that particular way light falls on faces and I'll only get to see that lighting when on the stage (which I am so embarrassed to say, has always been for you), poems that gain many many finger snaps and eye liner.
I was reading on the bus and I could not stop seeing your face when I had to walk away that one night but you called me back. I don't usually remember things but argh, things like that, they just stay and take up space in my head.


I'm a realist but sometimes I really hate reality.


x.