Who’s Lexie?

September 30th, 2007

i sat next to the one man who understood my moods best, my dad, and he had to all but open his mouth for 2 seconds and i was out the door in a flurry of blinked back tears and hurriedly grabbed things. i dont know what is it with me lately - it’s like every little thing upsets me. i broke a glass and started crying. i accidentally got UHU glue on my fingers and felt this burning fury, like i wanted to smear the glue all across the world. i looked at the toilet and thought, what a sad sad thing it must be to be a toilet. ass kisser. shit eater. puke canvas. jamban.

went to dinner alone and the expanse of the menu freaked me out. so many things. is it possible to have this many different pizza toppings? it was like a reverse claustrophobia, at the epicenter of which was me, and i could only see this ocean of happy yellow menu in all directions. i was treading panic and swallowing hopelessness. i ended up ordering 3 different pizzas and touching none; brought them back for my brothers who were lunchless this afternoon but now they are nowhere to be seen. clever boys. the house sucks. i would leave too if i were them.

met someone the other day. whether her speech was directed at me or not, the former of which was rarer, all the things she said angered me. it was total deja vu; i know the type - Machiavelli with doe eyes - and i cant stand it. i tried to like her, i really did, but why did she have to say things like that? red-under-green kind of things. it made me angry to have to sit there and listen to such armed talk, to have to be socially correct, to maintain poise, to be equally, if not more, red-under-green in return. to smile and to keep giving birth to conversation attempts, when i would have given anything to openly express my distaste for her and her breezy, conniving remarks, maybe even strangle her, without feeling bad or regretting it.

in the cab on the way home, i dug around my wallet for change. all i kept getting were singaporean coins. singaporean 20 cents, singaporean 50 cents, singaporean dollars. the worst and most exasperating of the lot were the singaporean 10 cents. where are all my malaysian coins? do i even have any? i should get some. and if so, today is the day i should do it. or so i keep saying. and saying. and saying, but never doing. or at least, doing it the right way, in the stuffing handfuls of lima puluh sen in my wallet kinda way.

right now, my hair smells like pepperoni. or milk. and like life, it is making me queasy. but unlike life, this queasiness can be washed away with a good bottle of Redken Smooth Down shampoo.

Entry Filed under: Musings, Rants

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