After a week of late nights and mornings awoken before the alarm, I’m finally exhausted. And it’s only 12.

I used to be a heavy sleeper as a kid. Able to fall asleep just about anywhere. Able to sleep practically the whole day away. Perhaps I’ve used up my easy sleep quota.

Little things keep me up these days. Work. Noise. Heat. Cold. Light. Caffeine. An unfamiliar bed. Unfamiliar surroundings. Being unhappy.

I stay up doing nothing. Just idling time away until exhaustion hits me and I absolutely have to sleep. Like I’m afraid to lie down in the silence, surrounded by nothing but my own thoughts. Scared that when I’m by myself, I would realize that I’m alone and I’m not happy.

Every morning I wake up and count my blessings, of which I have many. So many. And the buzz of daytime soon makes me forget. But when I’m supposed to sleep, when I’m on my own, there is nothing to drown out the voices inside my head. So I stay up. Until my body can’t take it anymore.


I’m not going to ask if you want me to come over tomorrow. Because I know your answer will be “It’s your choice.”

And I’m not going to let anyone have control over my feelings. So I’ll stop thinking about you.

I’m not going to wallow in drama. I envy those who make it look so simple. Just two people spending the rest of their lives together.

I’m not going to do anything. But I’m on the verge of becoming jaded. So jaded that I would stay on knowing that the bickering would continue. So jaded that I would allow myself to believe that two different people can go on being together, because at some point, you just settle and make it work soldier on. And I know you’ve settled on me. Love is over rated anyway. Love has no real place in a relationship. Love gives you so much hope, but all it does is fuck with your mind.

So jaded me is raising the finger to love. In the end, there’s only me, myself and I.

Back and Forth

It’s a surprising relief that noone is reading my blog. It’s so much easier being honest this way. Although putting it up on the Internet sort of removes any possibility for privacy. Perhaps it’s true that all we want is to connect with other people on any level. Being validated for feeling this way. 

I digress. 

I left again. All the bickering was, and still is, getting to me. I admit that I’m difficult to put up with. The emotional roller-coaster ride that I put other people through is never fun. And my mood can change faster than the blink of an eye, no exaggeration there. 

But I constantly find things that aggravate me. And when I’m so comfortable and close to that person, I find it hard to keep my thoughts to myself. Or at least I find it hard to keep my real feelings from appearing on my face. By no means am I proclaiming to be fault-free. In fact, I believe I’ve already admitted to being difficult. Neurotic. Emotional.

But it keeps gnawing at me. The realization that we are so different. When we put up with each other, denial kicks in and I don’t see it that clearly. But all the spats, small and seemingly insignificant are so negative. How do other couples stand to live like this? 

I run through all the reasons in my head and am temporarily pacified. But only temporarily. 

No relationship is perfect. Every relationship needs work. 

Does it have to be SO much work already? I enjoy being at home, being silent, sometimes, just doing nothing at all. And he’s constantly asking me what I want to do what I want to do what I want to do. I enjoy scouring around for good food. And he’s constantly telling me off for it. And his use of English is starting to give me Tom Rider flashbacks. 

Every advice is borne out of concern for my well being. 

But they have been grating at my nerves. Because I tolerate nagging and criticism very poorly. I don’t care if your intentions are good. When you’re constantly repeating the same thing, there’s only so much I will and can listen to. Advice not sought or asked for just seem patronizing. Are you so much better that you constantly feel the need to give your view on how I should live my life? Do this do that run like this walk like that eat this don’t eat that you have to bear the consequence of your actions. My inner rebel is bursting to scream. Just typing this down I can feel the vein in my head throbbing. 

I know that I am growing old and perhaps time is running out for me to find another other. But is it settling this way? When does a compromise stop becoming that and you start losing yourself? Is it really so bad being on my own? 


I realized recently that I’m not a people person. Maybe I should say that I reaffirmed it. 

I find myself struggling to make small talk with people. Studying the looks on their faces. And it really turns me off when their smiles don’t reach their eyes. People who fake smile at me. Perhaps I do the same and they’re just reflecting it back to me. I don’t know. Let’s not assume here. 

But dogs are never capable of fake smiling. And seeing a dog, I just light up and the goofiest smile just appears on my face. Because dogs are never fake like people can be. 

Maybe I can pretend to not notice the fake smiles. And be more interested in people. But then that would make me fake. And a hypocrite.

Let me recount the two incidents which are bothering me, so that I can remember why they bothered me. And then look back and see why I should never have bothered.

#1: Talking to two acquaintances about nothing insignificant aka small talk. The first one was unsmiling. (Note to self: if you don’t smile while talking to people, you just look disinterested.) The second one was giving such mixed signals I just could not catch up. And I’m usually the volatile one! One moment she was smiling, the next second her eyes went dead. But these are both women, so maybe a bout of PMS was going on. I dunno. It happens, certainly to me. But we shall not assume. 

#2: I find myself being overzealous about education sometimes. So much that the merest hint of a lackadaisical attitude pisses me off. I hope for the sake of the students I was wrong and that you DID teach summation like you said you did! But please, bitch. Just because it’s not coming out in the finals is not a good reason for not teaching something. And do not go behind my back and report to the higher-ups then accuse me of punishing you when I do the same. 

Aih, I have such low tolerance for people. The irony. Because I’m aware that I may be the worse example, since I have such little patience. It has to be a constant reminder for me to be kinder to the people I love. People. Perhaps I’m one of those people who should live on my own. Oh, but that shall be another post for another day. 

Fluffypinkclouds will be put to rest. It’s time to grow up and leave all emotions behind.

I embraced living passionately. I thought it made me who I was. I thought it made me unique. And I hoped someone would love that about me. But it seems as if I’m more erratic than passionate. More emotional than is socially acceptable.

And so these tears are for myself. Because today Fluffypinkclouds is no more. I pity the fool who conforms under pressure. Alas the fool is me.

The Silence

It used to be so easy. Typing my thoughts out. Separated by two screens. Words would flow. Endlessly. Like we had all the world in common. And it was a relief, from the silence at home. But now there’s a new kind of silence. Ironically, this silence is a relief as well. Get it? A relief from what used to be a relief.

But I’m tired from what seems like working to have something, anything, in common. And I’m no closer to being at home than when I started out. I admit I no longer feel alone or lonely, but it should be more than companionship. It needs to be more than companionship.

Perhaps I’m not working hard enough. Perhaps I’m still clinging on to the notion of The One. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll feel differently.

Today, though, the silence is my haven.

The One

At what point do you relinquish the idea of ever finding The One? Or do you, like my best friend tells me, just take a giant blind leap of faith? 

On days when I am overcome by the notion of romance and happily-ever-afters, I convince myself that with enough patience and faith, it will all work out in the end. That nobody really knows for sure, they just go through the motions anyway. 

But the truth is that I’m too opinionated to conform. Too selfish to try hard. Too insecure to jump. 

And as I take a step back, I see all the differences in opinion, all the diverging goals, all the opposing interests. And I realize that there is a point where respect for individualism stops and plain disagreement begins. 

But more than stubborn-ness alone, I’m both concerned and disturbed by how much I’m willing (or rather unwilling) to compromise my own wants for his. Because I’ve finally learned to love my life as it is, in its entirety. I love myself and my flaws, my family with their quirks, my job with its stress, and I feel settled and at home, when home as I knew it was pulled out from under my feet years ago. At a point when I’ve become so sure of everything, it then becomes glaringly obvious that his path will only lead me in another direction. 

So maybe it’s true that I have not fully made up my mind. That I lack resolve. That I’m still unsure. Because I feel like I’m losing me. That I’m becoming one of those women I despise and look down upon. Weak in the face of love. But loved, nevertheless. Does it have to boil down to this? 


RIP Cory Monteith

I remember hearing the news over the radio while driving back home. My jaw dropped and I went into shock, in total disbelief. All I could think about was: he’d just gotten out of rehab, it couldn’t be drugs, what, why, how, and this has to be a hoax, it can’t possibly be true, he’s supposed to be back for the next season of Glee, he NEEDS to be back for the next season of Glee. Why would anyone play such a cruel joke?
But it wasn’t a joke. And he is indeed gone. So RIP, Cory. Glee will never be the same again.