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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


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Saturday, January 17, 2009
4 in the morning 4:07 am

Daniel & Wendy are getting married tomorrow and the church service starts at 930am, which means I have to be up at 8am or so to start getting ready - which really makes me wonder what on earth am I still doing up awake at this unearthly hour! Fortunately, I'm not the one who has to look good tomorrow (since I'm not the bride, ahem) so I suppose looking like a panda shouldn't matter too much. I think.

There's just something about weddings - they leave people with romantic fancies of their own big days when it comes. The girls dream of white lilies and champagne and the perfect gown with the never-ending train; the boys dream of...well I'm not sure what the boys dream of but I'm quite positive that they are quite happy dreams. But now that the people of my generation are getting married (cousins, friends, friends' friends...) it suddenly struck me that ohmygod that could be me in a few years and to be honest, I'm not sure if I really want all that. Sure, of course I'd love to have a grand wedding with numerous change of gowns from sexy to elegant and jaw-dropping, but at the end of the day, I'm not sure if I could ever grow up to assume the responsibility of being someone's wife. To be held accountable for not just my own actions (of which I'm already having troubles with, really) but also for someone else's.

--

More often than not, these little demons keep creeping into my head to wreak havoc and no matter how much I try to get rid of them, they never fail to find a way back in there. Inside my head I am trapped with all these noise - like the buzzing of a cold static screen that refuses to switch off. And I'm screaming for silence (the same way we bomb for peace, oh yes I learn well) but regret it the moment my wish is fulfilled and everything suddenly disappears in a blink. Silence then blossoms on my lips, on the tips of my fingers and even on top of my head, so vividly that I can almost see it - the little silver flowers with shiny bells at their centres. (Yeah, whoever who said silence is golden lied.)

The seconds tick by and I realise that I can't handle the quiet. So I reach out to pluck them (ow, yelled the silver flower at my lips), and toss them out.

And then it was suddenly 4 in the morning.

stay up till 4 in the mornin' and the tears are pourin' / and i want to make it worth the fight

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