dear blog,

went to the cafe next to post museum today-

I love the cafe; the indie vibes, the recycled bottle lighting, the low key feel, the brick-wall deco, the personable owner, that there's an art gallery, installation and performances next door, i love how it reminds me mildly of the blu kau in brighton, how it reminds me a little of brick lane in shoreditch high street, i love how it's like bali lane but less overcrowded, i love it all. I also loved how the menu has 234567865432132345 vegetarian options (i'm exaggerating but) and that i actually have mighty loads of options to deliberate over-

but why is it that we've not been able to talk about anything substantial? Is it work life that's been weighing us down? why is it that i feel like i can no longer relate truly to Q anymore? why do i feel like all she is interested to do lately is to meet up with the opposite sex? And if really so, why do i feel disappointed with that/what is wrong with that? Why do i feel that H is putting in no effort in maintaining our friendship and always turning up at our meetings either late or tired, or both? why do i feel unsatisfied with a dinner outside, some superficial talk about surfacey things, and then an early night home? Why do i long eagerly for the long nights out that we would spend sitting in some cafe or joint, talking till the closing hours and talking the last train ride home?

have they changed?

i feel sad, i feel scared, i feel irritated, i feel confused, i feel angry,

i feel madly betrayed in a manner i cannot speak of

but worst of all-

i question,

maybe it is me that has changed?

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一转身，

回头望，

景色已非，人事已去

我仍站在这里，一个人回味-

是该醒过来了。

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i feel an urge to go rob a bank, take drugs and get high, go clubbing on a monday night, have casual sex with a stranger, smoke a joint, and end my life.

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dear blog,

people say time heals all wounds but i say what is really does is throw more things and people at you so you become so distracted and preoccupied that you forget about things (for a while).

i remember going to an exhibition at the Wellcome collection near Euston square, entitled 'things'. You could lend or give them anything you wanted- and they would exhibit every single thing that was lent or donated. Each person who filled in a form held on dearly to whatever beloved object they were about to lend or donate-

There was a man who donated a pen that he got in Mexico, a Japanese girl who lent them a small cat mantelpiece, and also a excited person who was about to donate an empty plastic coke bottle.

i donated a photo that i had taken during the Thames river fest, which was nothing special really. When asked why i said i wouldn't be in London anymore on the collection date, and that i couldn't bear the thought of donating anything so dear (that not being able to take it back would kill me)

and then he said,

'why not give it to me? Maybe it would make you feel lighter?'

yes, perhaps i should have given him my heart instead?

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