When I look into your eyes
I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain
Siren's Song
Thursday, August 14, 2003
A small sip of heaven; a savoury gulp of bliss. Nothing beats a mug of chilled Coca-Cola Light with lemon after aeons of browsing through hypertext and ancient manuscripts. It�s been a long day of pilgrimage to the various sacred shrines of wisdom on campus � Science and Medical libraries. Lugging heaps of hoary publications and textbooks on my back while scaling the endless flights of stairs in NUS, I felt no different from those dedicated mountaineers who carry tonnes of equipment on their backs while ascending to the summits, except maybe I�m not so dedicated.
Dinner was pleasant. It was� normal. I had my evening meal with this gay friend, and we talked about normal stuff � school, grades, people, how to work the washing machine at the laudrette etc. Nothing on Melbourne. Well, anything is better than expired white bread on its own, which I happily had for lunch. My stores of Nissin cup noodles are long gone, leaving me with only a shrivelled pear and stale bread. They say I�m crazy to eat it, but I still did, and rather enjoyed it. Am I walking down the path of self-destruction? Am I slowly, but ever so surely, sinking into a world of despondence and despair? A girl with a demented and tortured mind, screaming bloody murder within the depths of her inner darkside. Me. Murder. Me.
Boon�s (my gay friend) bunking in with me every Tuesday night now. With his stuff (shaving cream, towel, underwear and such) all over the place, it�s only a matter of time before tongues wag and tales spread about me cohabiting with a guy. So scandalous. To hell with them. He�s gay, and that�s final.
What is it that�s bothering me? The answer eludes me. Something�s missing. Is it inner peace that I�m lacking? I�ve got plenty of work to do, and I�m doing plenty of work all the time. But when I stop to catch my breath, I think, I recall, and I think I�m a loser and that my life sucks, big time. I talk to people, I spend time with people, but when they�re gone I�m left alone wallowing in my bottomless abyss of self-misery again.
