Sad, but understandable.

For the first time in 2+ years, the Macster has failed me ;(

It's old and too full, and overworked.


Hang in there Macster.
You're still loved.

-K

Pseudo-nativity.

Because thunder bolts bellow in my heart whenever you're around,
Right after it skips a beat.

So many times I've walked into this sandpit,
So many times I've had the chance to take another route.
As my feet step over the imaginary line that separates clouded judgement and heartfelt truth,
I give a nod towards the path of self assurance,
A glance at the path of hope, and a sorrow stare at the path of patience.
So familiar, so immune to the complications and the consequences.


The sandpit engulfs me, caresses me and feeds my emotions,
Its heaviness on my chest, still accommodating my breathing.
Until I have occupied it enough.

It spits me out, it disowns me.
Its comforting burden, warm and gritty, gone.


Stark feelings of hatred, inundate the very molecules of my body.
Then solemnness. Hollowness. Fear.
In whom, now then, shall I confide?
To whom shall I express my feelings, without even having to say word?
Who, then, will surround me with every particle of their being?


Who will pin my heart down, claiming it theirs?
Who will remove my heart's projection for the world to see,
and place it back in my chest with the right key?

Im lost,
People come and go, telling me stories as they pass.
I hear, I listen, but my heart refuses to let up.

My heart will not give me leave to give up.


Instead it beats, it yearns and it strives.

I'll fall again, and there is no doubt.
I'll choose the path leading to serenity.
I'll choose patience, hope and self assurance,
And not give heed to the mist.

Apologies, extended, past the luminescent barrier.

Because this post is going to be a girly one. So girly, that you might want to look away.

I haven't posted something completely random and boring in a while, so I though, 'Why not now?'.
Since, I am in the midst of what you would call a jam packed week (albeit not as jam packed as a fortnight ago), I decided to let my eyes do a little washing (direct Malay translation of "cuci mata", yes) and get a little pampering for a bit.
They have been serving me well, looking at/through, reading and scanning notes/books/slides/paperwork etc.

Well, eyes. Cry over these pictures, if you must, of sheer disbelief, that it could be true.

That someone so drool-worthy, could exist.

Well, isn't that a man. Wooh!

Joe Manganiello: burly, rugged goodness, with beard for good measure. DROOOOOL.

This post, I have to admit, is so high school. Think of it as me reminiscing over the days that are long gone. :D

END OF (perhaps).