Tag Archives | meeting

Meeting someone new

I hate it that some­times when I feel like blog­ging, and when I switch on my Mac­book Pro and open up my blog site, that whole ‘I want to blog’ feel­ing just went away.

If you remem­ber the last time I talked about The Boy was when I sent him a birth­day mes­sage that even­tu­al­ly unde­liv­ered. Just a few weeks back, I saw him work­ing in a bou­tique down town. I was not sure how should I be respond­ing to such emo­tion, that I was try­ing real­ly hard to avoid a face to face encounter. Par­tial­ly it was because our break-up was not a pleas­ant one.

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Meeting someone new

Men­tioned in my pre­vi­ous post, I had met John.

John, were sit­ting beside me when we were at the ori­en­ta­tion hall. While I was chat­ting on MSN, I saw from the cor­ner of my eyes that John was peep­ing.

Well, with­out bad inten­tion actu­al­ly; he was curi­ous how did I signed on to MSN, while the varsity’s fire­wall had blocked almost three quar­ter of the World Wide Web.

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The boy that broke my heart

Cedric, you ex boy friend looks like my friend. He is my junior and he looked exact­ly like him”

That was what he told me when I first showed him the boy’s pic­ture over the Inter­net. I had slow­ly got­ten over the whole break-up thing, but I wasn’t still sure that I have put the boy aside, and con­tin­ue with what is going on what is in front of me.

I sup­posed I can­not for­get the fact that I can eas­i­ly fall in love, even back in my heart, I still think about the boy, all the time.

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The problems

Sleep­less­ness, that is what I can use to describe myself.

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.

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