Christmas day was nothing to shout about. It really was boring.

I mean. I stayed awake reading/watching programs/talking/SMSing on the phone till it was 6.18am(the earliest I have slept in a looooooooong while), and then I told myself I would make an effort to wake up early on Christmas day.

I didn’t, and it was good I didn’t, since there really wasn’t anything for me to do.

I woke up around 4.30pm, and I was still very much feeling the fatigue. I fell asleep at slightly after 7pm, and only woke up at 9.30pm.

My body clock is so screwed that it is hardly funny.

Now, I had wanted to come home and rest enough for my appointment this afternoon, and I am actually blogging. In time for the breakfast Daddy bought. I hope he did buy something.

***

So left with no particular itinery for the night, I… I… went for a date.

Yeah, I guess you can classify it as a date. I think.

We watched Elizabeth, though I was quite sure my date was pretty bored with the choice. I liked it, and I am sure not many people would.

Orchard Road was pretty with the lights and happy people, yet I didn’t feel as if I was part of all these razzle dazzle.

It was then watching Mr and Mrs Smith on DVD. Brat Pitt AND Angelina are just so hot.

***

I am not sure what is it, but something about you scares me.

It is just something hidden behind all those smiles and affections, some kind of coldness and distance that are not plain to see.

That you are so capable of walking away. That you are so capable of being, cold. That you are so capable of misconstruing what I say and say something hurting in return. Meaning it, or not.

I am not entirely comfortable yet, and I am not sure if I ever would.

It is still enough, but not enough.

***

What is it with guys and the way the see girls as, say, ‘leftovers’?

Maybe it was just a mindless expression, but isn’t it sad that we girls are often seen as ‘leftovers’?

Too bad. Cos honestly, the “he got my ex-girlfriend”, “he tried to court my ex-girlfriend but he chose me over him”, thingy just sounds so.. rude and juvenile.

The world, and especially Singapore, is only this small, you could say something about this person, but one day, this person would very likely say the same thing back to you.

And then, it is funny how back then there must be a point some guys go “he was the next guy after me and I bore a grudge against him”, but after many years, it became “he has gotten my leftovers”.

Don’t get me wrong, just that recently with the realisation of how small the world actually is, it prompted me to see how big egos really are.

***

I have always been more of a sensitive person.

Especially with recent episodes in my life where people tend to.. well, be less understanding than usual.

I am always fearful and afraid of.. I don’t know, saying the wrong stuff.

Sometimes it is just bad that when you are building barriers to stop communicating, the moment you shed them, the alarm bells start ringing with one misconstrued sentence after another.

And then you get fucking scared. And I mean, really, seriously, fucking scared.

It is just sad that the only sentence I managed to catch, and the only sentence that made a fucking impression, and the only sentence that registered in bold red, was the one about “wasting time”.

“I don’t want to be wasting your time, or even wasting my time.”

I didn’t realise dating, or trying to get to know someone, even as a friend, or hanging out with a friend, is a waste of time.

That was, honestly, quite ouchie. I don’t care in what context it was in, but it was, well, simply ouch.

Maybe I should just stick to my friends, and stay closely beside the mahjong table, where I would be a much-valued companion, and no matter how many rounds, it will be quality time well spent.