Advice

Lets see,
Im doomed.
I don't know what to do. So I do naught.
I have no guts, or oppurtunity to do anything.
I want to. I don't know WHAT choice to take.

Well meet my advisors:

Ting Yan: Listen...try moving on...I don't think this is working out...just saying lah...

Well man...I thank you for those words...It kinda echoes me...sometimes. The problem is, 1 pang buries deep enough...2 won't help. And it won't do good to know that 2 pangs still sit in me and I an 'free'. But I shall ponder em.

Ibrahim: Don't be and idiot like me...see where I am now? Just try to say sorry and start over...or try...Take the chance mike.

Well da...lets try a dry run shall we? *clears throat* " Im sorry for being an idiot freak. Im sorry I felt something." what else now eh? even that sounds wrongly done. Maybe when it comes to be to say, I might stutter something. Still, your words are influenced by old friends...I would try not to follow suit in that track...Again I shall consider thee.

Haniff: Well, you never really HAD anything goin on. So it should be easy to try to move on? You hav to let go one day...Besides do you really think the feeling is real?

ONE DAY. Not today at least. And it seems like till now Im just emptying it all...I have NO idea what this is. What it sparked. How it sparked. What I did to the spark. I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA. I just know, it sparked :)

Karthik: Dei, just move on and find another lah! Instead of writing, you can just do other things mike!

Yes, thank you for those words. The most blatant idiocy Ive heard. Im not an asshole. Well, not asshole enough. I write, because I do. And moving on, I think the works shall lose the meaning. For if I do thus, It is all EMPTY (?) is it really??

So you see with so much advice, Im really on the brink on insanity. Ah well, blame it on my little knowledge on how to approach a chick. Im doomed. Always have been.

Here's you advice Ting Yan...

Break pen, and paper rend

To let it all go,
Says he;
Your cued time,
Is past and gone;

But my bow,
The inked pen;
Looses a whine,
Strung and drawn;

How shall I cut,
This string taut;
To leave a mark,
A pang of a scar;

My hand stops short,
The blade stopped;
By the invisible bar;

I cannot cut,
I shall not;
Till it comes,
To that beyond thought;

When the pen breaks,
And paper rend;
That is the day,
It shall all end;