"I'm not a born actress, as such, I care about expressing feelings." -Audrey Hepburn

Many times I care too much about feelings and feelings make up my whole world for me. It makes me wonder whether the world I'm living in is the real one. Cause I feel surreal in my own delusion more than anywhere else.

I want to play a grand piano on some gorgeous stage with a million audience.
I want to learn as many instruments as possible; saxophone will be next.
I want to dive in a swimming pool-sized of chocolate fondue.
I want a field flooded with orange daisies.
I want to teleport to Berklee!
I want a library of books with classics, and very very very extremely good books & novels.
I want to own a home movie theatre with my very own ice cream fridge.
I want to direct my own gore movie and write my own gore novel. (this is thrilling.)
I want to get married to some rich guy and be a tai tai. HAH.

@ lolalimlumlabe_92@hotmail.com

Adina Amanda Amethyst Chenchen Esthergoh Estherlee Fionalim Gladys Jono Kennethleow Rachel Yijun Yuhong

June 2008July 2008August 2008September 2008October 2008November 2008December 2008January 2009February 2009March 2009April 2009May 2009June 2009July 2009August 2009September 2009October 2009November 2009December 2009January 2010February 2010March 2010April 2010May 2010June 2010July 2010August 2010September 2010October 2010November 2010December 2010January 2011February 2011March 2011April 2011May 2011June 2011

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE % Pictures: Photobucket
% Brushes/Fonts: Henri Eshita
% designer: Weannz
% Basecode: Weannz

The rain pattered insistently against my window pane. I thought, was I as persistent and obstinate just like the rain. Has it gone too far? Or was it just the beginning? Time has lost control of itself. There wasn't any mark of the beginning nor the ending. Formless, I should say. But one thing was clear, the past was always there. I told myself with conviction, "My past must be dealt with." The voice of my subconscious mocked me then. "The past is never dealt with, dear. It's our past that creates us."


Soon, those unwanted words flit into my head and the treacherous memories began to slide back to when I was then. Yes, then. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and opened the box which was filled with the scent of memories. I took out a stack of letters yellowed by age and a few photographs. Slowly, I opened the letters. Love poured off the pages and and for a few seconds, I believed it.


I looked down at those words written on the thin paper all those years ago and grief threatened to overwhelmed me- grief for what could have been, and for what should have been. An intense pain flooded my body. I staggered to the nearest chair as strength left me and slumped onto it. My hands rose to my head and gripped both sides of it as though by doing so I could fight the images that were forcing themselves in.


It was as though a projector in my head had sprung into life. A stream of unwanted pictures from the past flooded my mind. Why, I wondered. A voice came into my head and spoke sternly to me, "Stop wishing for the past. Leave it as that and move on. Let's move on."


I knew the voice spoke the truth. But the memories that I had repressed resurfaced, cleared the protective mist from my mind and sent back in time, to when one nightmare ended and another began.

How true was it when you said you love me? ****************