Emily Van Camp and Josh Bowman are so cute together I can’t even.

My bio-clock is so fucked up. I’m living everyday as though I stay out at the clubs till the wee morning but all I’m doing is staying at the shop, staring at this wee little box till I have to pay midnight surcharges on the cab ride home.

Sometimes, I’m just waiting for the nerves in my body to indicate that my body is failing - a twinge in the chest or sudden shortness of breath - because I know how much I’ve taxed my body - by staying up late, waking up late, eating rubbish and putting on all this weight. I wonder if it’s to the point that I have to feel something to really make me feel scared then I’ll get off my ass and do something about it. I know what I have to do - I have the tools, my brains are awesome and I read so much about doing things but when it comes to starting them, I lose steam pretty quickly.

I wonder if will-power can be disciplined. Will-power IS discipline - right? Then can you discipline, discipline? How much can you fuck up till you realise the only way to go is up? What if sometimes you want to stay down? I’m up - most of the time. But when it gets quiet, the down tends to creep in.

I’m such a masochist sometimes it’s pretty damn scary because I think I secretly revel in it. My mind tends to replay the last days in the hospital with my dad before he died. My mom and sis never understood why I put myself through the torture by going to work in the day and staying up all night with him in the ward. What I had to go through is enough to break anyone. 

Love is watching someone Die. - I never felt the truth of this until after spending a week in hospital watching my father slowly waste away. I have a photograph of him looking on the brink of death - I had intended for the picture to exude a sense of peacefulness when I took it. My sister and mom were on the hospital bed with him, surrounding him and just spending time with him. We were together as a family, cocooned in our own little space with the ward curtains drawn around us. It was at that time when we said our personal good-byes to him. He was already unable to reply or acknowledge any of us at that point but we all held on to the belief that he could still hear us; and not feel so scared and alone. Anyway the point is that the picture I took looked a little morbid and it’s set private on my Streamzoo account. I’ve never shared it with anyone 

If anyone reads my string of rambling this far, I thank you. It doesn’t really benefit anyone in anyway, except it’s an effort for me to try to expel or face some demons of my own. 

I wish you courage.