And I’m letting you.

Cigarettes and whisky The perfect concoction for the keeping the lonely at bay The lady sways to the infectious melody as the jazz band plays Savouring the make-believe world her closed eyes brings her to With every inhale, she throws her head back She ruffles her hair on her face and sniffs the remnants on her fingers Scents always have a way of bringing her to places Places she has been and never been; like that ten seconds in the elevator, or that last time she stood to watch planes take off With every exhale, she lets out her sigh, ever so softly The night feels young but she feels old.


為什麼明明知道在傍晚八點睡覺會把生理時鐘擾亂還要固執地去這樣做?為什麼我有自虐傾向-偏偏愛做一些對自己無意的事情 凌晨四點二十二分,我坐在電腦前的小凳子上,整理香水瓶子,把瓶子轉來轉去讓瓶子上的標籤都面向正前方。 Spotify 一直重複地播著同一首的歌曲。 聖誕節要到了,星航最近剛剛推出最新的配套,直飛巴黎的機票不到九百元新幣。看了真的有一點心動。 不過在心動的當兒又不自禁地回想起上一會獨自由香港的經驗,我真的不懂得怎樣欣賞一個人獨處的生活,不喜歡與自己相處,不喜歡自己的陪伴。 你們也一樣嗎? 我希望我能夠變得更獨立一些。就像不久前剛去音樂節,聽說與我結伴一起去的兩個友人本來都打算獨自去音樂節,如果能在音樂節上碰到幾個朋友就和他們在一起,要不然,就獨自一個人喝啤酒,聽音樂。這我還真的做不到。我想我寫日記和經營部落格的習慣也是出自於一種需要與人分享的心態-人類不是群體動物嗎?為什麼有一些人能夠長時間獨處而仍然感到自在? 是不是因為我不喜歡我自己?

Shaken, Not Stirred

They say time heals, but they forgot to include the fact that before it heals you, it numbs you. The blows weren’t fatal enough – you were not strong but you were brave enough to grasp on to life – your heart learns how to numb itself and you gradually need to fight less and less hard to stay afloat.

Ain’t It Funny?

And this whole thing is like those annoying websites that only allow you five tries on the password. If you still can’t get it right after that few desperate attempts to try to get it right, they lock you out. Or rather, you’ve locked yourself out. Too bad. – I think I live in the past too much. I feed off memories, the good ones, to tide me through the turbulent times. They make me happy. They make me sad. They make me feel I should stop doing this.

Rubbish thoughts, really.

A beautiful accidental-stranger once told me – if you have only known a person for an x-period of time, you should not make future plans that will only happen after x-period of time with this person. It was some kind of mathematical formula he goes by. His logic being if you have only known that person for a short amount of time, you still can’t be too sure if you would still want to be around this person in the near future. And the amount of time you’ve known this person for will be a good gauge. My explanation sucks, please see chart: That is a rubbish theory. How can time even be a unit to measure connection and soul? Hor? – The pursuit of happiness is hard work. What’s worse is when your happiness is pretty much dependent on the people and things around you. We are so not in control of our own happiness, yet those quotes on Pinterest encourages us endlessly to think that we are. They forgot most of us haven’t attained …

I Do Not Love You

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth, lives dimly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. – – – This is so beautiful.


There are times when I feel like I want to pour my hearts out into words, but I can hardly do so. Sometimes, thoughts go by so fast, I didn’t have enough time to translate them into words. I can’t quite find the right words. I keep it all in my head. The writer’s block is so real, and just like unrequited love; the more you try to resist it, the more it happens. I try too hard to make something out of the obscure nothingness. I always do. I am afraid to speak. And there is really nothing worth saying sometimes. I have forgotten how to feel. I made myself not feel. What is the point of feeling so much and what does it bring me when I confront my feelings? Again, nothing. There is no passion and I do not long for anything. I fill the voids and pockets of time seeking excitement in life, to find meaning in nothing, to seek comfort in the unfathomable vacuum I have put myself in. Because I …