a long time ago, we used to be friends.
written: 10:04 p.m. on Tuesday, Nov. 08, 2005

So now I say, FUCK IT. I'm so tempted to skip class tomorrow. Could I possibly care any less? Ruishan isn't on MSN. Why isn't Ruishan on MSN? I need some bloody tutorial answers.

I am so going to flunk that December 2 Contract test. I'm seriously playing with the idea of not even turning up for it. What the hell is the point? They uploaded the caselist and statutes on IVLE and I downloaded it but I haven't even looked at it - which really goes to show the amount of interest I have in this bloody module.

Or, then again, let's make that my academic survival. I try to fathom why I can't move myself to give a damn and stop this sinking ship heading straight for the eye of the hurricane, but.

I know I should do this, but. I know I'm fucking up, but. But but but. But I can't help it, or can I?

I was trying to ascertain when I first started feeling this suicidal nonchalance towards Academia, and I skimmed through my archives and the answer seems to be two months ago. This is quite telling and I think the solution to my dilemma seems pretty obvious...but.

To quote Cyndi Lauper, confusion is nothing new.

**

A few heartfelt messages:

Where do I start? Your words have become rather unbelievable, in the literal sense. All these eloquent, gorgeous paeans about the greatness of everyone and I half-expect my name to materialise but it never does.

You shoot me with a one-liner and expect me to respond.

I love you and I genuinely think that it's true but I don't think it's enough.

I don't know what to say to that because I don't have anything to say to you.

And sometimes I think it's enough for me, but if it's always going to facile and many random one-shots at best then maybe I'm just wasting my time.

Because you're too late and I'm past wanting to talk; now I've moved on to "I don't wanna talk about, think about, or remember it" territory.

Logan Echolls breaks my heart the way no one can and I compare him to you and I think again, what the hell was I thinking? what fucking hardcore drugs was I on? what in the world did I do with my sanity?

I don't see you at all and we don't talk on the phone and I'm like, why is that?, but when we meet it's like there was never all these empty spaces between us, and I'm writing this to you because I miss you so fucking much that it hurts, and sometimes I do wonder what I base that on, because I don't go to you to talk, and granted, I don't go to anyone to talk but I think I kind of needed to and maybe I tried to project that but failed and I don't think it's your fault that you didn't catch on, but I'm a tad disappointed all the same, or maybe you caught on but just didn't care, and so I'm disappointed.

You say you love me, but I say, mark me down as sceptical.

Words are not meant to be just words; in your careless hands they become exactly that.

I trust the power of words to change the world, but I don't trust the power of your words to change the way things are with me, with us, concerning me and concerning us.

I thought I could trust you to know that I don't go running to people, that I wait for them to come to me, and that you should have done something when it happened...but you didn't.

You said you were busy but really, who the fuck isn't?

If you're too busy to talk on MSN why do you bother logging on in the first place?

Why can't you just tell the truth for once? Stop with the insincere sugar-coating, because I hate the way I desperately want it to be real.

You're not here and that shouldn't be a problem, but it is, and it's a problem which I will allow to solve itself.

What do you want me to say? You write about everything else but me. Even if it's just an ego boost it's still an ego boost. You're so obvious in your nonchalance that I truly cannot believe at times like these why I even thought it meant anything. The things you say sometimes really hurt, and maybe we should be honest to each other, just this once, let everything fly loose in the open, cut each other with our sharp, scathing words, burn each other with our acerbic, judgemental insults, fight like it's World War III and when it's all over, build a stronger foundation than what we already had. But I'm non-confrontational and I can't express myself in speech so that's not going to happen. You're...I don't know what to say anymore.

Things were easier when they were still in junior college.

If you think that I'm talking about you, you're probably right.

Ultimately I'm lying to myself when I tell myself, there are people who matter; these people are your friends and they'd always be around; insert other useless cliches that don't fool me anymore. The writing's already on the wall, I'm too tired to give a fuck, I find reel life infinitely more interesting than real life, the time between me wallowing beneath my covers and me falling asleep is my favourite time of the day because it's then that I get to become someone else, the Me I've always wanted to be but failed because I'm just not good enough for myself, and so by logical extension I'm not good enough for anyone else.

And words can't adequately express how badly I want to take a bottle and smash it over your head right now and make sure the glass shards produce enough blood for me to wash my hands in.

**

Cain is "something". Ha, ha, ha.

I said I'd mention your name. There it is!

**

I spent my afternoon re-watching Veronica Mars until my mom came home and yelled at me for not studying.

I find the characterisation of Logan Echolls infinitely interesting, and that's 80% of the reasons I'm obsessed with him (and the show). The scene in Clash of the Tritons where his parents go down to Neptune High for some disciplinary conference (Logan punched some moron for making jokes about his mom) and ended up quarrelling when his dad found out that his mom was the one who was selling intimate stories about his dad to the tabloids, that scene alone epitomised the central conflict that takes place in Logan's life. His parents were there because of him, but they walked off before they even stepped into the admin office. He sat in between them and they shouted at each other as if he wasn't even there. He stood up for his mom but she said not a single word to him, not even a reassuring touch on the arm to acknowledge his concern, and just stomped out of the school, got into her convertible, drove to the expressway and jumped off the bridge.

No wonder he looks for love in all the wrong places. My heart breaks for this boy; I listened to him say, "What's so great about living?" for the third time, and I still felt like...ouch. I can so relate, but you're 17 and you're not supposed to die that young.

I suppose this is the part where I write a whole bunch of fangirl crap about the genius of the show's creater (Rob Thomas, not ex-Matchbox 20 singer, now bland pop-tunes sell-out) and the brilliance of the show's writing, and I would, except I'm bored with this entry and the only thing I want to do now is to post it.

title of entry taken from the dandy warhols's "we used to be friends"

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010