girl

dalena | 25 | counting fancies
fmps/rgps/nygh/rjc/smu (biz)
a dancer with mosaic
working at the learning lab
4th feb 1986
dalena@gmail.com
clearing out her wardrobe


wordplay

adeline
amanda
amelia
beatrice
boons
chiew
colin
cordelia
daphne
eileen
eric & serene
felicia
gillian
haihan
jamie
jayne
jianfu
jill
joanne claire
marc
mark
miche
qiqi
sam
sheila
shuwen
sze
weiming
winnie heng
winnie png
yaxin
yvonne

destinations

desktop tower defence
dollmaker
gssq
go fug yourself
hollyjean
kenny sia
mr brown
oh no they didn't
orisinal
photohunt
pink is the new blog
postsecret
the butterfly tales
the superficial
tomorrow.sg
xiaxue

history



tagboard

credits

layout: detonatedlove♥
pictures: ohhspontaneityy
stocks: _excentric_
hits:


Monday, January 29, 2007
5:34 pm

emo alert.


After a whole night of feeling terribly emo (I could have caught it from Crystal darling - speaking of which, I hope she feels better), I can't seem to decide if this sudden bout of overwhelming sadness could be attributed to merely PMS, or if it is an indication of something deeper, something more troubled. I think I prefer being angry very much over being sad, really - the former lets me vent it out somehow or another; the latter usually just remains trapped within.

I have never been that much of a trusting person. It started with the disillusionment with the whole idea of friendship (best friends forever and all that bull), and moved on to showing each friend a different facet of my life so that nobody can piece together a whole picture of me. Now, it seems like I have inadvertently taken one extra step into the shadows that reek of suspicion, because I'm starting not to tell anybody very much anymore. In fact, I don't seem to be telling people anything that matter anymore. It started when we suddenly all fell headlong into the rapids of school and life - different people caught up with work, family, other halves, and the list goes on. At that point, I had to almost physically restrain myself from picking the phone up to call people whenever I felt down and out (which is always more often than I let on to others). Slowly, it became a habit over the last few months, and here I am, feeling very much like the proverbial treasure trove full of secrets, and not willing to share any.

In theory, this arrangement should work perfectly fine with my philosophy and way of leading life. But somehow, it doesn't seem very healthy, does it?

Labels: