Stranger

I sat on my balcony, thinking about the ex's imminent departure. He came for a month to be with me, and all my worst fears have come true, that we would get close again, that I would be emotionally attached. I didn't deal with it so well the last time, and I dread what would become of me in two days. 

It's happening again. I can feel it, the tears partially forming behind my eyes, and it scares me. Why did I let you stay with me. Why? I just moved into my new apartment, and it's already tainted with memories of us. I regret letting that happen, but I guess I would regret not being with you while you were here even more. I chose the lesser pain.

 

I was finally okay. I could breath again. The world was bright and sunny. I was happy. I generally am.. Before I let some guy come into my world and leave it tattered again. 

But you're not some guy. In some ways we've been together, albeit emotionally, for two years now. Some days I feel like you're not important anymore, like I've moved on. And the next I'm lying in bed having realizations that you are the one. Fuck me. 

We bicker, we fight, we make each other cry but we also make each other happy. You make me smile, you make me feel loved, you know me better than I let you believe you do. We are two pieces of a whole. And you're leaving again. 

I saw a stranger walk to the tramstop. Just for that moment, it was me and him. He looked sad, and seemed to be crying. I am sad, and I am crying. It's a fucking cold night and I considered asking if he needed some shelter just for an hour till the tram comes. Then I went back inside and laid next to you.

Tomorrow is our last night. 

I will always love you baby

Even when I've moved on

Fuck Buddy

I've been seeing L for about three weeks now and it's been pretty good and all. We get along well and are at a fairly reasonable level of friendship. The first time he stayed over we were just watching a movie when he made a move on me, pulling my mouth close and sticking his tongue in it. That was a good night.

He's been over a few times and aside from hanging out and stuff we've obviously been having sex. That's a no brainer. And it's pretty obvious that I kinda have a thing for him. I don't know if he feels the same though.

He was tipsy in the city earlier and came over to crash, all depressed and shit. I've heard him slip up before but this time he managed to drag my spirits down with him. I was making such an effort, even outside of tonight, and I'm not sure if it ever works anymore. It really makes me question how.. positive of an effect I can have on people. I haven't felt this way in a long time. So I gave him some sleeping pills and tucked him into bed. He wanted to hug me to sleep but I just wasn't in the mood, I needed vodka. And orange snappe (or however you spell it).

Smoking on the balcony (I smoke now, that's how much I've fucked myself up), sweet alcoholic beverage in hand, I contemplated the vast skyline. I felt emotionally heavy, like all the excess baggage I left at the some airport of emotions finally caught up with me. My ex, him leaving, me begging.. I was the one who broke up with him due to the unavoidable circumstances.. but the truth is if our love was enough it wouldn't be inevitable, distance wouldn't affect us.. He was the one who truly dumped me.

I made a decision to just be friends with L. And I realized how stupid it was to have taken pictures of us both topless together, on the bed. Sometimes you get so eager to move on with life, your mind forces you too hard into the hands of that potential someone - even if you've just met him, and you do fucking dumb things.

I turned his phone on, minimized Facebook and while searching for the pictures stumbled across his messages. One in particular caught my eye, and I couldn't resist. He was such an enigma, really, that I had to stoop this low for my own peace of mind.

I cringed while reaching for the gallery icon.

& In just a few minutes, happy moments frozen in times were erased from physical existence.

But fuck my ridiculously unforgiving memory

And fuck my sweet ass too bitches

cause I'm a fucking fuck buddy.

The Problem With Gay Friends

Believe it or not, most of my friends are straight guys and girls. I have friends who hang out predominantly with gay guys and the drama is unbelievable. Usually, they've fucked each and every other person in their respective groups (and hence drama often unfolding soon after).

For example, take the Doppelganger's group - they're a good example. After being tight-knit for ages, the treacherous web of flirtatious, ambiguous feelings and blowjobs has torn them apart - threeways. Dopple and then bf has broken up (lots of dishonesty and betrayal apparently), tearing the group into two, and Dopple is pretty much my best friend these days. Loads more drama there, but I digress. The point is they're not on good terms anymore.

So I try to get to know people outside of groups. It's easier, less intimidating, and the two of us can actually get to really talk and.. attempt a connection that requires no bodily fluids. Especially since I'm back in Melbs during the summer (where Asians are scarce and you feel emptiness out of your ass), I've been about meeting people.

Crossing out the ones that I don't think I could be friends withthe brainless and the creepy, you actually do find a few nice guys (not taking their faces or bodies into account la). The both of you can actually talk on a non-patronizing level and enjoy each other's company. You guys hang out, go to dinner, watch a movie, and you secretly tell yourself you're glad you had the balls to say hi on Jack'd before dismissing him as someone not worth bothering with.

And then it happens.

You go for a movie, and halfway through he suddenly holds your hand. You go clubbing, and suddenly he's jealous you're dancing with someone else, face darker than the mold on the bread my disgusting ex-housemate didn't toss out while getting the fuck out of my apartment. Or maybe you guys were just hanging out casually, watching 2 Broke Girls on the laptop when he suddenly sticks his tongue down your throat.

He wants something more -sexually or emotionally you can't be sure, but if that delightful prod behind my left thigh was any indication, he wouldn't be sure until he fucks you.

This has happened twice in the last 3 weeks.

I had sex on both occasions and rather enjoyed it. But that's also besides the point LOL.

Maybe cause we're all guys (horny bitches) and besides both parties being more willing than girls there's always this possibility of falling in love and being together. And sex too, that gets in the way (of my ass) a lot. I really wouldn't mind but somehow, perhaps cause of the awkwardness of having had sex, or the shame of confessing certain things you normally wouldn't, or maybe just plain ol' unreciprocated feelings, that very close friend you were so glad to have made would just be another fling in your distant past. And someday down the line you'll meet each other again through some mutual friend, or perhaps at a place you both used to frequent, and the acknowledgement of acquaintance for someone you used to spend hours texting would actually be a dilemma.

Either way one of you would give in to the nostalgia, while the other vehemently denies the affair from their existences. No one wins, everyone is left empty at the end, like a bottle of whiskey after its contents have been enjoyed: hungover, and left to wonder if the entire episode ever happened.

Goodbye, Again

**X or The-One-Who-Got-Away will henceforth be known as J. X is too cliche and ultimately, he didn't get away after all. 

So anyway J was back in KL the last 2 weeks. It was the usual clubbing clubbing clubbing, of endless alcohol and the usual druken emotional outrage. Surprisingly, the outrage came from J this time. It's usually me.

I've always known that in the end I will always be somewhat important to him, like how he is to me. It's the vague, what-was, what-could-have been-but-unfortunately-we-went-on-to-fuck-other-people-instead kind of love. It was so amazing when it happened, sparks flew, I was 15 all over again and he was that fairytale that I long gave up on - but we were going separate ways. I was willing to try, but he wasn't, and somehow that translated into me being the clingy one and him being the strong one who cares just a little less. He said he didn't want to ruin the first time, to ruin the honeymoon period being continents apart. We would continue to drag this one for a long time, and about a year into it he told me he loved me.

But even that was more than a year and a half ago.

So I guess it was good to hear that again, after so long. To just receive a light kiss and a brief hug as additional assurance of sincerity.

Yesterday he boarded for London.

Soon I will be back in Melbourne.

And like before, we will be worlds apart.

Goodbye, again.

Overwhelmed

His exams finish tomorrow.

We're supposed to go celebrate his belated birthday. Go visit the hot springs. Spend endless days rolling in bed. Cook together. Update his wardrobe. Do all sorts of lovely things together that'd make us both so content and happy.

But I feel reluctant.

Why make more memories when you know you need to forget?

Ok there is faulty logic behind that. I know eventually I'd get over it and be glad I have the memories. But until then comes along, I'm on survivor mode.

Exam Stress

Overwhelmed.

I don't want to ignore you. I don't want to forget you. I don't want to have to give you up. I don't want to move on.

I miss you. I wish you were here. I think about us all the time. I think about everything you've said to me.

I'm sorry I'm not brave enough to flat-out ignore you. I'm sorry I just feign disinterest in everything you say. I'm sorry I always pretend to be busy. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry.

I'm sorry for wishing that it hurts you more than it hurts me.

You will always have a special place in my heart, despite almost a whole year being happy with Sean. And I wish you didn't. I just want you gone. Sean deserves all of me.

This is me, at 2am in the library, studying, armed with Jim Bean and Coke, waging a war against the tears that hide behind my eyes.

This is me, on my knees, losing the fight; as that lone teardrop curiously rolls down my right cheek.

Jian.....

Ivan

I first met Ivan when I was 16. He was making out with WY, another guy who I believe totally fucked his own life up. He had a reputation for being somewhat of an asshole, and from the first moment he talked to me, I could've have agreed more.

WY asked me for a goodbye kiss, and I obliged. He stuck his tongue inside me and ravaged my mouth. I went along; I didn't really know what constituted a great kiss then. Ivan, having spent the entire night talking to WY (fishing for a ONS apparently) was opposite us and seemed jealous ("Where's mine?").

He took my phone and left himself a missed call. I was admittedly turned on by this confidence, but I wasn't gonna give him that satisfaction. So when he refused to give me his name, I just saved his name under "Lanci" (arrogant, in canto) for future references, promptly walking away. 

Eventually we did go out quite a few times. We went to watch movies, to cybercafes for afternoons of DotA, to talk. He was still an asshole, I guess, but sometimes his softer side shone through. I could tell he was trying to be nice. Once he slept over at my place. We watched Grey's Anatomy till I fell asleep on his chest. His dick was huge (he showed me, that fucking cocky bastard). We didn't have sex. 

He would sometimes lash out at me. He insisted I was just playing with him. That I was just getting him to lower his guard so he would slip. He threatened that if I repeated any of the "mushy sensitive" stuff he said to me in confidence he would "fucking beat me up".When asked why he told me I was too good for him. He wasn't particularly handsome. He didn't have a hot body. He wasn't even nice to me at the start.  Once he called me a "fucking cheebye loser" and ended up spending the entire night convincing me I wasn't. So... why?

I guess I liked him then. He kept telling me to not fall in love with him. But it was pretty much the other way around, him being really attached to me. He was especially protective of me, and when people spoke ill of him I spoke up and stood his ground.. so I think I was pretty protective of him too. I think I had feelings for him. I was sure he had them for me, though.

Anyway, eventually I got sick of all his bullshit and mindgames. I think I hurt him real bad when I told him I had enough; that he wasn't worth it anymore. I told him I was sorry for saying that. I think he cried. I think that was the moment I became a cold-hearted bitch. 

We somehow drifted apart after then. And many guys later, we're still friends. It's been 5 years now and we've both grown. He's changed dramatically though. He's nice now. Everyone likes him. He's nice to everyone. Me included.

I don't know why I typed this. I was reminiscing, I guess, and I thought of him. He wasn't a fucking great deal of my life, but I miss him. And somewhere deep down, I guess I feel like I lost him. The him that was mine, anyway. 

It's selfish of me, but I wish he was still a well-hated jerk who was only nice to me (at times). I look at him and it brings me back to all the feelings I've long forgotten. I want to feel those emotions all over again. 

But he has changed. And so have I. For the better or for worst, it makes me want to cry. 

Black Rose

Backdrop perfect, colors strong
It came too close to a full bloom
Moments right that turned out wrong
Left the lone black rose to a mourning moon

Gaps between fingers now unfilled
Another rose red now exists
Between two smiles memories sealed
Watching it bloom within our midst

Letting go isn't moving on
Moving on isn't moving forward
Beauty cherished before its gone
These petals fall gracefully, feigning comfort

Darkness swallows what was whole
Blood red buds eclipse what was
No more us against the world
No more world to be against us

A somber stem will remain
Adamantly lasting as rosebud dies
Perhaps someday blooming again
Perhaps someday a fading goodbye

Backdrop perfect, colors strong
Immaculately fitting for one bloody bloom
Moments right that didn't belong
Left the lone black rose to a wilting moon.

**I do not own the picture**

And We Will Never Be The Same

That moment when you realize you don't matter anymore.

Two years down the road.

Things have changed.

So we're not still the same.

We're not who we were.

I can't remember if we're at where we hoped to be.

I can't remember if all that was said was a real memory,

or just a vivid reverie.

Distance is such a contradiction.

Priorities have changed.

It's not us against the world anymore,

issit? ;' )

Happy Two Years. You still haunt me everyday even as a memory. 

Of renewed brilliance

We tend to grow used to things, becoming comfortably numb. Be it the sleek polish of a brand new car, the easy intoxication of your first shot of tequila, the utter confidence while wearing new clothes, the exciting new start in a different environment or even the sheer handsomeness that is your face.

We get excited over new things, and after a while we forget how awesome they are, breaking out of our contented complacence without valid reasons. You, for example.

I was looking through your pictures, and those of us together. I found myself once again captured by your sly smile. It brings me back to the very first night we met, and that look you gave me. It took me back to a time before our emotional confrontations, before it was us against the world, before it hit us that we could only delay the inevitable.

It took me back to perfect chemistry, and ecstatic yet warm feelings. It took me back to voluntarily participating in a (FUCKING MASSIVE) rush hour jam to spend more time together. It took me back to the smell of your car. It took me back to alcoholic kisses, saliva exchanges and desperate embraces. It took me back to lazy afternoons at Alexis.

It brings me back to the ecstasy that was you, and I. (As well as overpriced Alexis cakes!)

It's been a year. I'll see you soon.

The One That Got Away

I think everyone's blogging about this video now, probably cause everybody can relate. There's always the one that got away, like for me, the guy I mentioned in the last post (whom I gave all my love to and didn't stay).

I mean, we're still in contact. I would consider him one of my closest gay friends, and that we always have each other's back despite the gossips and stuff that we might hear. We talk about our bfs, me telling him the sweet moments and him telling me the drunk ones (he is responsible for my alcoholism) (ah the sweet old days when he would feed an initially unwilling me Macallan's through a long, wet kiss). We skype (the last time just yesterday) and I'd comment on how fat he's gotten while he would tell me how I look like those lalaboys from Sungai Wang with my hairstyle. We compare dick sizes of people we've seen (or got to know..personally). We bitch about anyone and everyone.

Watching this video made me cry. I just cannot picture my bf leaving, being the one who got away. But I guess for now, you still hold that title.

And you will always be important to me.