3's a crowd in a těte-a-těte
Eugene is dying from the lack of my posts. Poor soul. Look at his plea on my tagboard! His tags are as rare as doing matherobics in class. Shock, it (matherobics) mightn't be rare if Ms Low decides to do it every lesson.
[x] IHAVENOSTUPIDMOODFORMUGGINGWHATSOEVER. says:
GO BLOG DAMMIT
Here I am, once again! (I'm torn into pieces) You know, the song. I have decided to stay in the school library after school everyday to study. Productive! I'm pleased. I had organ lesson too! It's true they say music heals the soul. Until I couldn't get a bar correct and started to bang on the keys. Surong provides good entertainment!
I'm currently thinking of what to blog about to satiate Eugene's hunger for this post. Whoah I feel honoured, people are depending on my blogposts to get through boredom or pain (Wait, I sound like Xiaxue) I'm honoured anyway. But seeing his name all over should be alright, even if the content is nonsense right?Men are as ego as that. No idea why I said that.
Anyway, you know the story The Boy Who Cried Wolf? I met the boy. But other than wolf, he cries leopard, tiger, lion and every creature imaginable too. Except wolf. I'm beginning to guard myself against him subconsciously because the lies are exposed in the most magnificent way imaginable-- Through time. So I have no idea if it's an emergency when the boy cries Wolf, and hence I won't be there (in time) to help. I will even doubt if it's truly an emergency, or if it's just a subconscious ploy to make himself look better. It's complicated. Melissa mentioned about this sickness that you lie to everyone so much you start lying to yourself too. I think he might be suffering from just that. Better start saving yourself before it's too late, kid.
Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage to make love known?
Nice phrase I chanced upon reading Macbeth. Plot quiz tomorrow! It's going to be a long day. Final lappp! Must. Self. Motivate. Olright I'm doing just that.
Waiting for a hint of shadowFor a lone figure to passFor the night to turn to duskWaiting, for love to lastTo feel the pain he feelsTo try alleviate the painTill the epilogues fade and rust"C'est amour?" I askIs this love, I ask.
