Hidden Valley

This may be the draw back of having an average of four hours of sleep a day. Not only do you get terribly drugged out (especially in the afternoon when the sun is high in the sky) The numbing sensation makes it hard to differentiate reality and dreams. This is especially so given how hazy my memory is. This is especially so given that my dreams more often than not are rather realistic, spare the few gain-vampire-powers one. You know how sad things has been when school, work, bate, msn becomes an integral part of your dreams. Or so i vaguely recall.

“I completed my IOP in my sleep!”
“and there was this once I spent the night on msn with O-Har.. only to find no trace the next day!”
“Did i really have eight fifty dollar notes in my wallet last night? “

Just how do we know? If the only indication of our past experiences is our memory, then what if we change a person’s memory. Would his past experiences still be considered to be the same to him? Never been to Disneyland, but “remembers” he been to Disneyland because he sees photos with an older brother looking like him in it. Or what if we had the technology/magical power to erase certain bits of memories and replace them with others — never had a sister, only a brother. never was a leader of a revolution. only a school kid.

It is a fine line between being a philosopher and being a lunatic. Though both can lead on to each other.
Perhaps that is why Mr A. thinks I’m demented.

“some day I will wake up; and realise i made up — everything” — Senses Fail

He knows I am lying.
I know he knows I am lying.
He knows I know he knows I am lying.

But I lie anyway, he plays along anyway – to an extent maybe even try to cover for me.
All for formality sake.

After four years, i know his stupid excuses too — to an extent his intentions behind the eccentricities

Subway should never be shared.

“You can have everything you want but no onions and no capsicums.”
“………ugh. but onions and capsicums are the ONLY vegetables i add!”

“I love pickles.”
“i hate them. they’re disgusting.”

To think i ate a footlong by myself two days ago.

It disturbs me — friday is the day we all look forward to. It is the eve of the weekend — our main period of rest.

And yet, friday is the day that leaves me with the most discontentment and emptiness. For reasons I do not know. (I fear that this is almost feminine a behaviour)

How ironic it is — right before the moment we’ve been waiting for arrives, we lose interest or have a change of mood. There is no sense of closure that we were hoping to get. No sensation that we were looking forward to. How ironic.

And the cycle shortly repeats itself after the weekend.

A week spent looking forward for Friday.

(I see unintended metaphors. I’m subconsciously so good, I should be a poet)

Perhaps i should start posting again soon. Perhaps?

Earlier I said i would restart my blog or setup a new one (like the (47934984984th one already) to signify my new life post-bate.

Somehow, things still dont seem to be much different. There are still many things to be done. Most of which, i cant quite recall for the time being. The time. The time. Surely I must have better things to do.

Perhaps i should start posting again soon.