You be a bitch because you can.

So ashamed to admit this, but I have too many unhealthy theories in my mind. Like Bersih 3.0, they all are clamouring to make a way out to this world.

Saturday night has always been my favourite moment of the week. The idea of sipping on a cup of hot beverage and writing or drawing is very sexy; the process of achieving it with crusty Doughnut in my hand and Cranberries in my ears is simply divine. This is a rare moment when I'll let you slap my face if you're feeling upset because everyone in your class went for movie and never thought of inviting you.
Come hold my hands and join the cleansing breath!

Yesterday Peta and I had this conversation about..being liked. Be frank I have limited comprehension about the feeling of being liked, well given the history that people have been spreading rumours about me, you can't expect much from me. Probably you've heard from someone who is friend with someone who is friend with someone that I'm the stingy weirdo with Marfan Syndrome who refused to pay after hopping a ride to Malacca and complained about lecturer being too harsh on me because I'm a spoiled brat.
It never stop ever since I graduated from high school and stepped into foundation,till now. I never bother to explain.

Back to being liked, I can play nice too if I am after the lunch-with-my-gang-dinner-outside-AIMST routine. Up till tonight, I still enjoy dinner with myself, and with lots of potato in my plate.
Or let's think from a childish aspect, If I learn to be nice at this age, what am I going to do 20 years later? If I misbehave today, the worst that I would get is the poison of my teenage dream; but if I am not friendly when I get 40, I would be in serious shit.

If blogspot doesn't lie, then yesterday I had one new reader from Argentina. I am 23 years old and there is no conclusion for this entry, voila!