there is this massive headache - I wonder it comes from lack of lunch or this little black dress I got from the mall yesterday. i am still a size six despite putting on unnecessary weight for the past four months, thank someone from above that my body still loves me a tad bit after all the overwhelming food and drinks.

i cannot wait for the day to end and swing over to eric's. i must be starving so bad that i can't use my head anymore. wine and food awww if thats for going to hell...

aside from these bits and pieces, i know mom and dad haven't been too supportive. who am i to say? who are they to judge? my friends would ask if i am truly happy, what's truly happy? are we taking about now or future which we can barely see in our day-in-day-out aspect?

perhaps as you grow a little older, you stop asking the 'how' and 'why'. we don't need a reason to see things fall into places or fall apart. things no longer has to be rational or black and white. unspoken grounds can be alluring.

and so as everyone anticipated, he came back. we met up last Saturday. i cried for a good three hours. maybe it's the need of closure for what happen a year back. when we stood in front of each other, the rush of familiarity went through my body, indeed, it feels like nothing has changed. after a good twelve hours or longer, I got rid of my smeared makeup and changed into my nightie calling eric. he makes me feel sane and found my grip. everything has changed. for my own sake, i have been the biggest liar in my own game. the creator and the sinner. how ironic. i no longer see who I see in my own reflection. i call it - life.

he also drop the million dollar bomb - moving to the states. one thing rang loud in my head, we are both the big fat liars now. its like this little mind game we kept going back and forth the entire year. fucking with ourselves and perhaps needing this drama to spur my life. maybe this drama to keep me going? i finally accepted and wake up from this self-made dream. he, on the other hand, living in a year ago and trying too hard to make things up. this is a self-made dream, what's there to be sorry for? I wasn't angry or hurt, in fact, i can't put a finger to this emotion, to stop painting this story and going back and forth to change the influences and plots.

was he merely a role he got swirled into unknowingly? to prove or make up the ideal of 'dos & donts'. i am never too sure for now.

for all I know, the story has come to an end. the role i once see in the soul of his, has died.