I don’t need a parachute, I just need my Brüt

As I’m typing these words out, I’m nursing a bottle of some rather fruity-tasting Brüt, courtesy of my mom’s generous best friend who bought it back from the airport en route to Kuching. I love duty-free – 20 bucks for a carton of mentholated goodness, less than 40 bucks for a good bottle of wine (okay scratch that; I can get a better bottle for a better deal than this one).. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Come to think of it, I should’ve bought more than 2 cartons on my way out of Singapore, considering the time I’m planning to extend my stay.

Pardon the incoherence of my thoughts as you read this (if anyone really cares to) but all I needed was to type, and keep on typing, because a few days ago I was rather enlightened to the fact that I’ve stopped writing, thanks to an acquaintance of mine. And that scared me. If I’d lost the will to write, just as I’ve lost the will to speak my innermost thoughts, then I’d probably end up as a corked vessel precariously on the brink of blowing up due to all the pressure locked in. So I just had to write something, to show that I’m not that corked up vessel but a living, breathing human being. With something to say.

It was said to be a proven fact that any human needed to speak a certain amount of words to someone else, and to receive a certain amount of hugs (at least one, I think) a day, to continue surviving emotionally and when I read that fact somewhere on the Internet, I was starting to believe that I was some miracle of mankind, to be able to survive with neither a day sometimes. Astounding, isn’t it?

But that’s besides the point I was getting to. I guess what triggered my hands from taking this bottle out from the fridge, and then my fingers from typing the last few sentences out, was something that I saw on Facebook. Facebook – how depressed (depressing? My grammar’s failing me) you’ve made our lives to be. It’s one thing that most of mankind is on prozac, it’s another thing to worsen the situation. Also, I was always intrigued by the six degrees of separation that everyone in this world has from one another – that’s 6 billion of us, being separated only by six degrees. So I could know someone from the North Pole, thanks to my cousin’s friend’s mom’s best friend’s sister’s boyfriend, or something – and with all the social networks which the Internet has brought us, I’m pretty sure those degrees have been brought down to four. Or three. Or maybe even two. And that’s terrifying, for me at least. But again, that’s besides the point.

So back to the Facebook thing.. Screw it. I just want to move on with my life, and like my latest status says, “be unfazed by things/people that aren’t worth my time.” But here’s a little secret – there’s a small part of me that knows that those certain things/people are still worth my time because I will them to be, and that’s what drains me because no matter how I try to be unfazed by these certain things/people, they just tend to creep their way into my thoughts.


I contemplated deleting my Facebook account once, but let’s face it – I’d only last 30 minutes before I revive my account once again. I’ve tried purging people from my friends’ list, but the guilt of doing so just bites me harder right after. So I’m pretty much in this predicament (which I brought on to myself, no doubt, thanks to my itchy fingers & my imagination & my infamous hunches) which I’m stuck in and can’t get out of.

Oh, and this “vacation” I’m on? Definitely proving itself to not be one of the best things I’ve done for myself in the last couple of years. But more on that another time. I’m off to watch Se7en & take myself and my thoughts away from reality for at least the next 2 hours, before I fall asleep for another 8 glorious (or at least I hope so) hours of dreams.


Ellie Goulding – Lights


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