Christmas is supposed to be a happy thing, a joyful thing.

Ever since the breakup with The Boy, Christmas has never been the same.

Merry Christmas to all, and especially to you, my boy.

No related posts.

I could not get myself to do it. The last time I tried, I got a “Anything? I am busy” reply from him and that feeling totally sucks.

I was at Hannah Tan’s concert at The Garden’s ballroom. Alone.

I brought a gift, a gift that I thought would make some boy happy. I registered myself, and pass the staff my gift and proceed to the ballroom where Hannah Tan was going to sing.

It was THE song, the song that made me almost shed my tears; the song from the local group, Innuendo.

Driving home, with my thoughts stuck in my head, more tears starting to flow uncontrollably.

I last saw The Boy sometime in August in a club somewhere in Kuala Lumpur. I think the person that I saw that was with him is his boy friend, but I wasn’t too sure.

Till today, I don’t know why, but I still think of him all the time. Perhaps I still miss him, but something I really do not want to.

I tried to keep myself from messaging him, I tried to not think of him, but every time I do, I failed miserably.

Perhaps I will never forget him. Perhaps every year, I will go back to this state of uncertainty, perhaps …

They say, true love are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.

Happy birthday, my boy.

No related posts.

“Dear, I just reached Subang Jaya station. You can come pick me up now.”

It was a call from Jack, a boy that I had met on the Internet a few days ago. Jack is a sweet looking boy, staying not too far away from me and we both liked each other. The way he talk, the way he looked like and the way he dressed up. The call had woke me up from my sleep; I quickly dressed up, and head over to the station.

It was almost raining when I was out from the house on the way to pick Jack up. I was worried that I might not like Jack because pictures can tell lies, sometimes. I reached the station and I could not find him, he was at the inside of the station. I saw him walking towards me after I make a call to him and found him. He looked different from the picture that I saw, like I said, picture tell lies sometimes.

We went straight back home. I stripped him off his cloths, and he lied down on the bed.

I rubbed myself with a layer of lubricant, and entered him. It was easy, it was smooth. He gave a slight moan.

It wasn’t right. The feeling of penetrating Jack feels exactly like how it felt when I make love with The Boy. How could it be? It has been such a long time, I could have just forgotten how it feels like already. How long had we not had anything? Two years perhaps?

I was already exhausted, and it gotten more when we finish our first session. Jack lie on my chest, and both of us fell asleep.

I felt something on my nose. It was Jack playing with my nose, and it woke me up. Both of us were stalk naked as how we were first born. He put his head on my chest, with his tongue sticking out licking my nipple. I stroked his hair in approval. He went down south, licking my cock head slowly, and then the whole shaft. He then changed position, lifting my legs up for better access to my testicles, and my love tunnel.

It was early in the morning and I got really horny. I met this guy online who was coming down to KL from Genting. He was on his way to Uniten, but would not mind stopping by my house.

I directed him to my house.

I did not like him the moment I started to talk with him. He is asking too many questions.

I lie down on the bed waiting to be sucked and penetrated. Yes, I was horny, but I wasn’t up for fucking someone, I wanted to be fucked. He first started by working on my nipples, it excites me every time. He work himself to my cock, and then I got him a condom. He got a small cock, but just right perhaps for the amount of time that my love tunnel spent unexplored.

It was painful, not because of the sheer size, but rather the friction from the latex. I pulled his cock out wanting to pull off the condom. He complained that he have not cum yet. I was a little annoyed, and I kept quiet. I smeared a little more lubricant and pulled him closer to me, it was heavenly and he let out a really loud moan, and comment.

He was bad in bed, really bad. I changed position, and told him that I want to fuck him instead. I gloved up myself and penetrated him ignoring his complaints. When I was gloving up myself, he asked me to use back the condom that I threw on the floor. I guess his misinformed brains did not register when they teach them condoms are single use only.

I lube him up again after I gloved him. He penetrated me easier this time. Rocking back and forth, he came; in five minutes.

Before he left, he asked me to call him whenever I need a fuck. I guess this would be the first and the last time I will see him. My ass is still sore though.

Licking my sore ass from the morning encounter, it was rather soothing. Then I remembered I had not clean up after the morning encounter, I quickly pulled Jack up kissing him on his lips.

We fucked again, and then cleaned up ourself and head out meeting my friends for dinner.

Thomas called me up for a drink. I went over to where he was after I picked up another friend. I needed to talk to Thomas to update our little business adventure that we had.

“This is Jack, my boy friend.”

My friends were surprised. To most of them, me and Thomas having this thing together. Thomas is straight, and will be straight; but things happens sometimes, and we are sort of officially seeing each other.

We went drinking, dinner and walking around. It was soon midnight.

Jack was exhausted from the outing. He collapsed immediately after his shower, and I lie down beside him hugging him from the back. He turned around giving me a kiss on the cheek. We were both naked on the bed, Jack went straight to my cock, and shove the whole shaft to his mouth, and begin working it.

“Fuck me again, dear.”

He commanded.

I lube myself up, and this time, I took the ride slowly. I wanted to have that same feeling again, that I was making love with The Boy. It felt that way, all the way for the whole 2 hours.

I could not sleep, the thoughts of having Jack as the ‘replacement’ does not seem right. Even though the feeling of us making love seems to be so intense, but that feeling of love isn’t there, at least not yet.

I would love to have a boy to myself, to pamper and to be pampered. To have something to talk to, to have something to bully and the most important, to have someone to love. Is this all ever possible? Will I ever get over it? No one knows.

No related posts.

It was that time when I was walking in to the club, hoping to see some random cute boys that I stumbled upon a familiar face.

It was him, the boy that I was crying for for the past one and a half years, the boy that I had put my everything, the boy that I missed so much, that I still have his pictures on my computer desktop.

He was looking at me when I walked into the club, when I looked at him back, he quickly looked away, and trying not to exchange glance with me. That moment, it felt so painful that I can actually feel a stray tear trying really hard to get out from my tear gland.

I tried to continue my night without thinking anything about him. I started drinking, and my friends were giving me drinks. The night started pretty slowly as the boys and girls were on the dance floor dancing. I was standing beside the DJ booth trying to dance myself to the music.

More drinks were flowing to my throat, I can see the boy happily dancing and drinking with his bunch of friends from where I was standing.

It was after midnight that the drinking of 12 year old distilled malt drink that is getting me tipsy. I did not just stopped there, I continued drinking.

The next thing I know, more tears were flowing, and I was looking at the boy, trying to think back the times when we were still together; trying to think back the good times when we were still together.

It worked, with the music, and the abundance alcohol, I finally break down, and cried.

I was pissed drunk, I could not even walk straight. My friend who I was with could not drive my car, she had to call another friend of mine who were already home to come pick us up.

I sometimes still wonder, how long will this last. For the past 3 months, I had already stopped shredding tears for the boy. I tried to move on, but I don’t think I can now after I see myself what had happened to myself.

I always thought that having someone else in my heart now would change everything. I was wrong, again.

No related posts.

I know I normally do not post videos, but there is always the first time in doing anything.

I can safely say that this song has been my companion ever since our break up.

I was introduced to the song by The Boy, he was having his bad day one day while I was with him, and he kept on playing the song again and again. He told me that he could listen to the same song all day long, and not get bored of it. Tears and emotion filled his eyes when he said that.

I guess, he might be missing someone.

The thing about The Boy is, he had kept his past love life a secret. I had no idea how many boy friends he had, or was it good or not.

They say that when a relationship ends for whatever reason, there are there are some left over ‘garbage’ that needs to be cleared off; else those ‘garbage’ will be a major barrier to having a successful future relationships.

I haven heard from him for at least a couple hundred days. Okay fine, almost a whole year and a half. Still, I don’t mind hearing his voice. Problem is, will I be emotional and break down and cry? Or will I be normal; sad bu normal?

After reading the article, Healing From Past Relationships I felt it was quite true that perhaps I could not let it go is because there are still the ‘garbage’ inside me that I have not sorted out.

Question is, would I want to let go? Faces all around me, they don’t smile but they just crack. Waiting for the ship, but the ship is not coming back. Given something to believe, I think I can overcome The Boy. I think I can, I believe I can.

Related posts:

1. Happy Birthday There again I was contemplating if I should call The...

I could not sleep this morning until 4 am. The bright moon light from the New York’s cityscape peeking through my window on my face.

I tried very hard to fall asleep.

The thought of us together got me awake. Ever since you found yourself in someone else’s arms, I have been thinking about you day and night.

It rained today. Not too heavy, but just rained.

I went out to the street, hopefully to get my mind off things for a moment.

I caught Chris online. I must say that I am glad I have someone that lives almost the same timezone as me. Being 12 hours behind everyone that I know sometimes is not a good thing for me, especially when I needed someone badly to chat with.

One mistake I make prior coming to New York.

When I was with the boy, we had our plans to move to New York. Study, and working together.

We even traveled to New York together to look at how the things are, to see if we could get used to our surroundings. We looked for a uni, a place to stay. While we were walking one day during our holiday, we saw this place that is up for sale. It is a quiet neighborhood, and we quite like the surroundings. We manage to contact the owner, and the owner was kind enough to meet us up on that day itself.

When we entered the place, I felt immediately like home. Located at the Upper West Side, it has windows overviewing Central Park. With private pool, we immediately fell in love with the place. Unlike condos or apartments, the loft has got no rooms, but rather a huge space where we can separate the rooms by ourselves. The scene of Queer as Folk immediately triggered both of our senses, and we totally forgot that the owner were actually waiting for us.

Dinner time that night was all about The Loft that we saw. We were visualizing how we would decorate the place, where we would put the bed, where will we put the LCD TV, the PS3, the kitchen and etc.

The next day itself, we spoken with the owner again, this time, I had paid a sum of USD5000 upfront as a deposit.

I was preparing for my university that is starting in a couple more days. A white envelope slipped and dropped to the floor of the loft.

When we were having our visit to New York, we had enrolled ourselves to one of the varsity here. When we broke up a year ago, the boy returned me the envelope together with the varsity’s offer letter. I must have slipped it in between my school documents, and now the memories of us being together is haunting me.

I had tried my best to design and decorate The Loft as per how the boy had wanted it. Maybe, I had a thought that maybe some day the boy would come back. For the past few nights after I have arrived here, I imaged myself cooking at the kitchen for The Boy. Both of us would be happy feasting on the meal that we had prepare, and perhaps a sip of wine looking over Central Park.

Maybe the idea of me wanting to continue to New York was a big mistake. Maybe I thought it is the only memory that I could savage from our sad sob relationship.

Maybe I had not wanted to savage the relationship at all. The things that had been going through my mind at that time when I had argued with The Boy. The things that I have done that would have hurt his feelings. They say, you will not appreciate something until you lose it. I guess, it is true to an extend.

No related posts.

I could not sleep. Insomnia has got the best of me. That’s not just it, flashback of our moments with the boy hit me hard again, till I almost kneel down to my knees begging it to stop.

I want to cry it out, loud if I could, but I can’t. Streak of tears just kept on falling because it knows I miss the boy very much.

The more I look at my Facebook, the more unhappy I become. I don’t look at Facebook much nowadays because it kept on reminding me of the fear that I have.

Just this afternoon while I was munching on the green apples that I have cut, I saw a profile adding the boy to his Facebook.

Is this the guy that everyone is talking about? Is this the person that people has been telling me that is fucking with my ex boy friend, my boy? Is this the person that took over my ‘duty’ satisfying the boy? Can he?

Questions and questions starting to appear in my mind.

I am not sure if I can get over it, I mean it has been so darn long that the boy has not contacted me. I on the other hand do not want to disturb him because the boy told me he do not want to hear from me. Perhaps, the boy misses me, perhaps not.

I check on the boy’s blog everyday. Hoping that he would update his blog. It has been vacant since last year, my hope of getting to know the boy’s well being just shattered like that, with barrier after barrier blocking my progress.

I sometimes do wonder, if the boy actually still thinks of me. He did say that he wants to cut off all contacts because he wants to move on. He could not without thinking about me. I was somehow flattered, but thinking it to myself, isn’t it better if we had not choose to breakup?

Related posts:

1. Thinking of the boy I thought I would have forgotten him, but the incident...

Yes, maybe I do not know how to put things in words. Maybe I am just confused of the certain feelings that I have right now, maybe it was just nothing.

His voice still echoes deep inside. I could still hear him saying things to me. Was it just my imagination, or just merely because I missed him so much?

It has been almost a year that we both break up officially. It was also the time where the boy had hitched a ride and went home with someone. It was the time when I heard news about the boy not going back home, and I cried and cried because I had missed him so damn much.

I do not know why, but my feelings in such way is only the first time towards the boy. I had no problem letting my other boy friends go, no matter how much we claimed to be in love with each other. I sometimes wasn’t sure if it was the companionship that me and the boy both had, or it was the sex that was so great.

Listening to the songs in my iPhone do not make things much more easier for me. When my song list goes to the song “Shake It” by Metrostation, I think about how I make fun of the song. When my song list goes to “Sorry, Blame it on me” by Akon, I think about how the boy had talked about the meaning of the song, about the story behind it. I listen to Britney and I will think about how I used to whine when he put on Britney.

They say, time will heal albeit slowly. Really?

I still see my wounds, fresh and wet. Tears? They have not abandoned me, still visits me all the time.

The boy had not contacted me for almost three months now. The last time I tried to talk to him was when I called him to wish him a happy birthday.

I had no other means of contacting him beside the phone call. I could however just stop by his place and gave him a surprise visit, but I do not really want to freak him out.

A friend once asked me.

“Do you think you still can be as how it used to be, if the boy had come back to you again?”

I guess, things would not be the same anymore. We as human beings, are not that forgiving as we want us to be ourselves. It isn’t too hard to apologize, it isn’t that hard to say that I am sorry. How easy for it for someone to forgive, and hopefully to forget?

If you loved someone and you break up, where does the love go?

How can we transform a once passionate love, into something that fits nice and easily onto the friendship shelf? I wonder, instead of pretending each other doesn’t exist, can’t we be friends or something ?

I really hope someday, very soon, that we can all meet for a drink and be great friends; just like in the movies.

Memories. Light the corners of my mind. Misty water-colored memories. Of the way we were. Can it be, can it be that it was all so simple then? Or has time re-written every line? If we had the chance to do it all again. Tell me. Would we? Could we?

I would have not hurt you deliberately, will you forgive me, L?

Related posts:

1. Thinking of the boy I thought I would have forgotten him, but the incident...

Skating rink, I love them, I hate them.

It was one of those days when I was at Pyramid Ice. I captured this picture with my iPhone, and thought the guy was pretty good looking.

I don’t know, but I have been always in the liking for someone that is younger than me. My friends say that I like them you, I guess.

I had always loved the skating rink. It was my second time on the rink, I think. It looked so easy when you see people young and old gliding on the ice gracefully. My first time, it was slippery, nevermind that. The grooves that those people make on the ice, felt right to my legs. Why can’t people build softer skating shoes? Perhaps that way, I don’t feel the grooves on the ice?

It was a weird feeling, a feeling that I did not remember from my first time skating at Pyramid Ice.

I still remember the first time, after so many times of persuading that the boy need to do, that I went over to the rink, with him and another friend. The boy gave the excuse that we can finally hold hands in public, which is a very much given excuse, ever since my fondness of public display of affection.

After that much persuasion I finally gave in, and with another friend, we went to the skating rink.

The stinky shoes, the chill from the ice, the soggy gloves.

I finally did it. I was on the ice. The boy hold me by my hand, slowly dragging me. I tried to slide on the ice myself, and to no avail, I felt like my world been shaking too much, I can’t stand still on my feet.

There it was, the fall. Right smack center of that 2 butt cheeks. I felt the ice cracking until the skin of my pants, I really did.

I sat there on the ice, unspoken. Still traumatized from the fall. The fear that I feared the most.

It was those feeling where you wanted to shout out loud, but there’s something that is blocking your vocal cords. It was the same feeling that I had last time, when I fell down from the bicycle on the way to school.

I do admire people that can skate very well. I admire that they do not have the phobia of falling down like I did. I know damn well that, without this falling sensation, I too can be very good at it. I love the carefree movements, I love the speed and I love the sensation of wind rubbing against the hair.

Of course, the boy picked me up after that. He was worried. He kept on asking me if I was alright, but I can’t answer him. Just kept on nodding to him, and he then took me the the bench.

He hold me tight, worried about what had happened. I can see it from his eyes that he had regret dragging me to the skating rink despite my protest. I wish I could tell him it was alright, and that I do not blame him.

We hugged, for once at the bench at the skating rink compound, in the public eyes, we hugged.

No related posts.

I would want to blame it on the different time zones, they call it jet lagged. Yes, I have been living on a jet setter’s lifestyle since late November. It was fun, to be able to travel all around, meeting different people before I start myself in Uni in May.

But that is not the point, the point is, I wanted to stay away from my home in Kuala Lumpur. I had wanted to do this for a very long time, trying to see if I could forget the boy. The truth is, I can’t. On the boy’s birthday last year, while I was in Brazil, I gave the boy a call to wish him a happy birthday. I mean, it would only be appropriate if I do that, at least, I thought it that way.

Not only was I wrong about the whole thing, I still ended up crying at night, hugging a pillow, that I was well aware that it would not hug me back.

It was Chinese New Year. I remembered last year’s pretty well. I was in hometown, and could not let myself not missing the boy. We practically texted each other the whole day. I had to run around the house because the house was surrounded by hills, and Maxis coverage wasn’t that great, then I found the perfect spot, the store room.

Sweating and sneezing, I embraced myself, just for the sake of not wanting to miss his text messages. Silly, I know. That’s what we all do for love, no?

Deep inside, back to reality, I thought I could forget him if I leave my room, leave everything behind and move somewhere else. I could not move to Singapore because that was our initial plan. We both continue our studies in Singapore.

Singapore will bring back the memories, I would definitely sure about it. Then, during my vacation, I cried, and cried again, hugging the cold hotel pillows, streak of tears just fall down to my cheek, and to the bed.

I could not help it, they say I was being foolish for falling in love to a person that do not love me. Deep inside, I still believe that there is love, deep inside, I still believe that it was me that had caused the breakup, and it was be that had put our relationship into that fine thin line.

I could have salvage it, I just know I could.

It has been almost 9 months since we break up, and I am still here, hugging my pillow tight, hoping that it was the boy that I was hugging.

Related posts:

1. Happy Birthday There again I was contemplating if I should call The...