21 & Reggae Club, Changkat

picture post to distract from the fact that i’m losing my writing mojo! night out with a couple of people; got completely wasted, could not remember shit, and woke up to texts from random people telling me i’ve been “extremely naughty” the night before.

yes, the word you’re looking for is, indeed, mortification.

ENJOY! :)

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okay, this post should make up for like … five days’ worth of blogging.

HAHAHA!

:D

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edit:

i’m craving rendang, and kfc, and pie, and …

OMFG why!

it’s half past three in the effing morninggg and i’m so hungry ;’(

*raids kitchen.

Mr Pleaser, Smile For Me

Back to square one. Is this amusing to you? At my roots, I believe I’m really just your average girl next door. Strip me of my issues, and forget about my past; how about you be a darling and help me throw off that chip on my shoulders? Look past my immaculate dressing, and pacify my sarcasm. Tick all that off the list, and then go a few steps further to eliminate all the drama – there you have it: Su Ann, raw. Sometimes I wonder what happens when you concentrate too much on what other people think of you; do you eventually forget yourself?

In the morning, I put on someone else’s smile. I deliver all my lines, word by word perfection. I wear the right things, and I behave above and beyond what is expected of me. No wonder I’m numb. If you walk around with a mask painted on all the time … one day you’ll stop and realize that beneath it all, is emptiness.

Do I conform?

Do you?

I like to think that we are all equals.

But you know what?

We’re not.

And I truly believe there is more to life than this repetition. I truly believe that I deserve better. There’s got to be more in store. There has to be.

One day I’ll get there.

You Are Interchangeable

already feeling the monday blues. :( ugh. wake up, attend classes, eat, smoke, sleep — repeat cycle till point of killing self.

goodnight, all!

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Follow The Arrows

“All love shifts and changes. I don’t know if you can be wholeheartedly in love all the time.”

– Julie Andrews

Unlike Any Other

I believe that I am, by nature, a very selfish person. But don’t judge me too fast; because you haven’t walked a mile in my heels. I want a lot of things, that’s true. I won’t deny it. That’s me; I am obstinate, I am articulate, and I’m extremely hard on myself. I expect too much from myself. I juggle so many roles and so many things; I’m almost surprised at the level of ease with which I perform. I want my cake, and I want to eat it too.

However, sometimes you don’t get what you want … but what you need.

So I suppose it all leads to this: What is it that I want, and what is it that I need?

Unfortunately, those are the hardest questions. Like I said, I want a lot of things. I want to have my fun, and I want my 4.0. I want to meet random people at bars and strike up interesting conversations that will linger long after I forget these strangers’ names. I want to travel; I want to immerse my soul in various parts of the globe. I want to leave little pieces of myself behind. I want to accomplish things. I want people to remember me even after I’m long gone. I want to be that girl you’ll remember as capable of painting smiles on people’s faces even while she’s hurting inside. I want to dance in the rain. I want to soak up the sun. I want spaghetti carbonara. I want tequila shots. I want to go crazy at all these parties I keep attending, and I want to take Polaroid shots of all the people I love. I want knowledge. I want to make my family proud. I want to be happy, all the time.

Earlier today, here at the new apartment, I had a conversation with a friend. He said I don’t really seem to need anything or anybody at all. Well, when it’s put that way … there’s truth in his words. Through the years of disappointments, I’ve perfected my fuck-it attitude and built up walls so high above me I can’t seem to find the way out. This smile, these clothes, the make up and my saunter – all pieces of my armor, solid and impenetrable. I don’t open up to people. I have secrets. I don’t hurt easily anymore. I don’t even cry.

You keep asking me all these questions I simply cannot answer: “What do you want from me, Su Ann? What do you need from me? You have to choose.”

In the end, however, I think the question should be:

What the hell do I think I’m doing?

The Other Girl, The Other Guy

Wrong never felt so right.

An apology seems like a good place to start – but I think I’m supposed to pretend nothing happened at all that would warrant an apology in the first place. And besides, there would be too many people I’d have to mumble an “I’m sorry” to. How I get myself into these sticky situations, I will never know. The go-for-it attitude needs to be counter-balanced with my freaking … brain, for god’s sake. When my guy friends ask for relationship advices, all I do is bestow upon them one golden rule – “Never trust girls.”

I could have gone further.

But then I’d have to blow my brains up. Haha.

And yet …

It was fun while it lasted.

It's Called The "I'm Sick Of Drama" Complex

I have come to the realization that – I am really sick of high-profile relationships.

I’ve been there, you know; the sticky spot where you’re part of an It Couple.

When people look at you, they say things like “aww, you guys look great together,” and then they sigh in a blissful manner that makes you squirm inside. Everytime they talk to you, they refer to you as an item. The first question your friends ask you when you sit down at the table is, “so how’s the boyfriend/girlfriend?” When you’re out on your own, everyone waits for your significant other to join you. You have plans every week, and when you send out happy birthday messages, you end it with “Love from Su Ann and [The Boyfriend].” When you have a fight, the whole world knows about it … and even worse, they take sides. You meet each other’s family. You meet each other’s friends. You become acquainted with each other’s pets, for the love of God.

Well.

I’m done with that. :)

Seriously; screw society’s rules.

My relationships from here on out are going to be so low-profile, it’ll be like I may as well just be single. When (okay, ‘If’) I send out wedding invitations, people will be like, “she had a boyfriend?!” I mean, who needs to know, anyway? Fuck expectations. I’m dating the guy, not the guy’s friends and family and facebook.

Speaking of facebook;

I’m still “married” to G.

What the hell.

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