here i come?

So I think tonight would be that night that I should start taking care of myself. I finished my last stick of cigarette a couple of hours ago, drank two cups of green tea, and stalked the overly muscular men who are at the same age as mine who I used to go to school with. Seriously, men here are ridiculously too..muscly?

As much as I don't wanna end up looking like a douchebag, I'm sure I'll stop at a point where I could just admire myself at how evenly toned my body is. When will that happen? I don't know.

So to document this whole change that I'm hoping will pull through (which by the way i've planned already two years ago and which i constantly fail to keep), i'm posting a picture here. and each month, i'll post another picture, and the next thing you know i'll be in one of those mike-tyson ab-machine guy on your late-night infomercials. 

Last time I checked I'm seventy-five kilograms. and from what i've read so far, it's about the ideal weight of somebody who actually works out and has a fit body in my height (one hundred seventy six and three fourths).

basically, all i have to do is try and shit all my fat out, have an all-carb diet like Regina George, try not to starve myself, and i should be all set. easier said than done, but i think, with enough determination and the existence of the overly-demanding pressure of the gay community, i, one day, will have a body that i could finally post on grindr. 

till then, here's 

 Physical - Olivia Newton John by carooke 

my longing

so it's been two weeks. i know, only two weeks since the incident happen.

it was a result of seven hours of alcohol binging, a week of fucked-up overspending, and a two-hundred fifty dollar restaurant bill by the end of the night.

you ended up telling me things you didn't want to say, and i didn't want to hear. you told me about how you always felt about me, how we could be perfect together...you make me sick! you make me sick to the core that i hated you that night, but we both know i couldn't.

after that night, we talked. you told me how you didn't remember anything, how you only remember us having our second round of sake bombs- that was five hours before you broke down in front of me. isn't this just fucked?

i felt alone after that, like everything, every single thing that happened that night was fantasy. every word you said that night was true, but it seems like they never existed on your part. you left me hanging in the air and i couldn't help it but feel more alone than i was after i broke up with aaron.

every day, almost every single minute i'd fantasise about how it would be, you and me, like you said that night. hoping that the more i think about it, the faster i get over it. the more i rewind it all over my head, the easier it gets worn out and hopefully fade away.

a very close friend of mine told me to leave you be, for now. he needs the space.

so maybe it's just me then. i'm a needy, obsessive, impulsive, impatient megalomaniac.

if you may ask me if i find that wrong, i don't. i'm sure innately that we all hold these similar traits that transcends every race and gender, but there has to be a point where it has to stop. no, not stop, controlled. and that's where i'm struggling with right now.

-

so i did what i had to do. i stopped, i got rid of your number, erased over a year of messages, and cut off every possible way that my impulse could probably get to you. it was my way of saving us. as much as i would never want to say this in front of your face, i'm not even too sure myself to be honest if this is what love is, but i do love you.

& it kills me everyday knowing that i do.