Open

When you open yourself up, you open yourself to both the good and the bad. Its a signal I favour sending to get others to the same.

So when the imminent threat of awkward silence reared its ugly head, I instinctively leapt into the abyss of gossip and lo and behold what else can I find in the 'superficial' section of my cranial archives? Nothing but myself.

Prevent self from become Benedict Woo Kah Leong: Mission failed.

Amazing how you can just spill all your secrets in a day and then realize it only after the thought of: "OH MY SHIT WTF HAVE I DONE?"...

And now I feel the pangs of it. The relentless revelation. I feel empty, like I've just threw up a whole lot of my food for thought. I feel, absolutely nothing, and each day I grow closer to the fact that this is nothing more than a crush. Maybe even an insecurity, an obsession of finding out if I'm even good for anyone.

Hah, I just remembered that my Photog seniors found my blog before... don't think they read anymore.

So in a string of conversations I have managed to spill the beans to about 10 people. My gosh. Can't beat Ben's record but it begs me to reconsider my social mania recently.

I mean really, if she means that much, it doesn't seem right. Perhaps I envision myself to be one of those crazy, socially-inept Sheldon Cooper types who just states it as it is, brutally frank, and dealing with the consequences.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. So what if she knows? If she likes me back, we'll talk it over. If she doesn't, it's going to hurt but maybe for a while only. I don't think anyone breaks friendships like that after all. I'll say it too, if I wanted to, and I think the consequences are minor, I'd say it to her face. You think wimps and nerds don't have balls?

--------------------------------------------------------------------

What is this poppy jazz? Brilliance.