the wind

the lonely man's bet

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 13:28:12 GMT

a lonely man's bet with the world.

truth is of course, preferred.

the bet is divided into three aspects.

1. CELEBRATIONS

When one is no longer lonely, and has found a someone to spend time with, one should celebrate by giving a treat to his friends.

When you get attached, you will buy me lunch. If I get attached, I will buy you lunch.

2. CONSOLATIONS

When one is no longer attached, and before one becomes detached, it is at this point he needs the most support and comfort. One should offer consolation by having dinner with the friend.

When you are detached, call me if you need help. You can certainly call me for a meal. And if I get attached, and subsequently dumped, you buy me lunch.

3. JUBILATION

When you get engaged/married/your intended significant other for the rest of your life pregnant, you really, really give me a good treat.

And same, and likewise in reciprocation when I

4. OTHER DISCLAIMATORY CLAUSES.

To be discussed upon the uptake of the bet. Suffice to say we will assume that treat-meals are considered to be equivalent value and horizontally trade able like clean energy permits. (e.g. if I owe you one, and you owe me one, we can react the two in an annihilation reaction producing energy but no net treats either way)

Wait, you ask, where in the world is the bet in all of this? (since, it's clearly apparent, I am the lonely man.

The bet is that I will have a net positive gain of one meal from you, at the end of x time, where x is sufficiently long.

...wanna bet?

I love you more thans

Thu, 17 Dec 2009 03:47:02 GMT

I love you more than tearing wave after waves of zombies apart.

I love you more than hitting spectacular thirty-yarders and making invisible ghosting runs into the box and scoring fantastic goals.

I love you more than the joy you bring me when you play along.

I love you more than awesome clothes and sweet shoes.

I loved you more than even ultimate itself.

I love you more than dice and games and dungeons and dragons.

I love you more than camaraderie and the good old days.

I loved you more than myself.

I love you more than the two years I spent watching you from the shadows (and I'm still watching, but with a lot less).

I love you more than you think.

Preamble:

It is altogether too easy to discuss a topic with which one has had no experience or knows nothing about. That is why I will altogether avoid Plato's Symposium, in which he apparently discusses many issues salient to the following.

I generally think of myself as an unlucky man save in one regard (which off late has fallen off; perhaps due to my taking it for granted). I speak, of course, of affection, and one-sided relationships; I have had the priviledge (misfortune?) to have been on both sides of the river, as well as drowning in the river on one occasion.

The question we seek to examine is this: whether it is better to be loved or to love. Let us begin from the premise: it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. In this, we speak merely of having been in love - in which direction, we set aside for the moment - and agree first that there is a net positive benefit from being in this clumsy tangle known as "love".

Assuming both provide a net positive benefit, which is better?

more ideas to write about

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 16:59:03 GMT

Ai Mai: The simple philosophy of life
To Love or To Be Loved, That is The Question
Masks 1: Everybody Wears Masks (I just realised this)
Masks 2: Tragicomica
Masks 3: The Idiot Mask

this I promise you

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 16:46:32 GMT

to whoever wrote and commented on my last ljpost

Thank you. I appreciate it strongly

and this I promise you; I will write more

some topics I would like to discuss

Fishes And Ponds Big & Small - Ambition and Alan Smith
The Cynical Theory of Everything
Dark Ethics (and possibly religion)
Frisbee & Me (be a bloody sight more exciting than bloody Marley & Me too)
The Lonelyman's Bet (possibly a very short story)
A Theory of Poaching
Disturbia v Insomnia
some more stuff I forgot about

But first, a brief preview

If the world ended in 2012, what would you regret?

Quick sketch of the answer:

"...it used to be "not having had sex". And this, at a glance, would tell you everything you need to know about me - visibly base, low, and obsessed with hedonistic pursuits and totally reprehensible. But as with me, it is an answer with multiple layers...

"...at least, for me, having had sex with somebody would represent a major commitment and a closeness to somebody, so much so that I am willing to take responsibility if anything occurs...

"...at least, it represents closure for me. And that is why I would have regretted not having had sex before the world ended...

"...as I have said; I am unimportant. I am driven and motivated by others."

not even a love story

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 03:11:22 GMT

This tale is dedicated to the Samwise of my Frodo, Mr Wu.

I have attempted to use as few emphasis tags as possible.

= = =

This composition, this exposition, this essay, is just like me, and other products of wistful advertisers: exactly what it says on the cover, and nothing else. No nonsense, just-as-it-is come-as-you-are just as advertised. This article, this tale, this is not even a love story.

"It took me five years to find her." Well, not really. I had not exactly lost her, seeing as I never gained her in the first place, but you know how it is. Once the finals start and training is over and you graduate and school ends, your world is in upheaval and nothing is ever the same again. The Venn diagrams of familiar faces and familiar places cease to overlap; things change, and you (quite literally) can no longer look at the (very literally) girl next door.

Love at first sight? Hardly. I was young and frolicsome and fickle and frisky as my youth; not to mention being a skinny unathletic untalented wimp-nerd with social anxiety problems (please; let's not get too personal with the comments on who I am now). She was just another face in the crowd, nothing spectacular, a familiar face, no doubt, and one worth remembering, but she was essentially still just a face. Somebody - well, let's fully objectify her - something to look at, and at that, not even remarkable.

(digression: Boys ogle. Let's not kid ourselves here. Boys ogle and stare and look, and they watch with voracious intensity and an efficiency brutal enough to rival the most competent secret service. There are networks. They scan for exposed skin and follow flaunted figures; they track skanky skirts and tail really shorts*. It's a case of like attracting like; the testosterone-enraged seeking out the estrogen-endowed. Some of them even approach these girls, but I don't know about that sort of thing.

*As in, "there are shorts, there are short shorts, and then there are really shorts." )

She was not a looker. That's not to say my eyes didn't follow her wistfully as she walked down the corridor or scan the area for where I usually saw her. She was not overtly skanky or fine-figured or even particularly pretty; I admit, I was surprised when I was told of an attempt on her relationship status. I didn't know somebody else was looking.

I didn't expect anybody else to see what I saw.

Which (continuing the objectification) was this; I saw a happy, well-adjusted girl. I saw somebody who was almost always perpetually smiling, whether she was hanging out with her bevy of female classmates or waiting alone for her food in the canteen. I saw peace, and contentment, and self-assured joy, and, mirroring my thoughts on the matter of a romance with her, I saw something I desired but could not have.

Well, hindsight and rumination tell me that perhaps what I saw was also a dream, in its purest form; fleeting and illusory, charming you only to disappear and leave you down and disappointed as soon as you make a move. What I understand is, the entire story might have been different, though perhaps less wistful and fluffy, and at least it wouldn't have taken five years before I learned her name.

Yes, five years. Two to fall in wistful thinking, two to think about more important matters in the army, and one to finally catch a glimpse of her in the pictures of one of my classmate's friend's second ex-girlfriend twice removed. Something complicated like that. It was, to say the least, mildly disheartening to hear my dear friend across the Pacific exhort at her name and rattle off bits of rumours and stories about her; but at least it was balanced by the tremendous sense of catharsis, of finally being able to speak about her, of finally being able to point at her and say there, her, she, that girl. That's what I want. That is what happiness looks like.

Having used wistful four times prior in the essay, I feel I should explain; wistful, according to wiktionary anyway, is apparently a combination of wish ("a will for something to happen") and whistful ("quietly"). A quiet will for something to happen. Wistful is a most appropriate word when thinking of her; it accurately captures my thoughts and feelings towards her.

This not-even-a-love-story has no purpose, no meaning, and so it can have no conclusion. It certainly possesses a start - the first time I saw her - and so perhaps, it is simply a process. A process of objectifying the face of a girl I never knew into joy and the word "wistful", and the personification of a favourite muse of mine.

The first of my nine muses; Wish is a good name for her.

nostalgia

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 16:10:27 GMT

I wrote this for someone; not sure who.

= = =

What's wrong with me?
Why do I feel like this?
I'm going crazy now

So many things, in the head, can't even think straight
Nothing heard, nothing said, can't even speak about it
In my life, in my head, don't wanna think about it
Feels like I'm going insane, yeah

It's a thief in the night to come prey on you
It will seep up inside you and overwhelm you
A disease of the heart, it can control you

It's too old for comfort (oh-ohhhh)

It makes you wanna sit down and wonder
If things 'd be this way without your blunder
And if you live twice, would you have done it all over
Because it's all over now

Your mind's in nostalgia, you see the past in a better light
Nostalgia; who are you thinking of tonight
Nostalgia; things ain't what you used to like
Nostalgia, nostalgia

= = =

Dear FutureMe,

it's me, from a year ago. There are no massive revelations (how is she doing? and him and her and them and they?) from this year that I'd like to send to you, no great fantastic forks in my life (still majoring in chemistry? I'm not sure if we hope so or not) that I'm about to take (say, have you written the story about the guy who uses futureme.org at a fork in life and ends up receive emails from the guy who takes a different fork?)

(maybe the question should be - do you still write?)

I...just wanted to say hi. At this stage, idealistically and optimistically, I have high hopes. Are you better at frisbee now? (anything cool or exciting happen?) How's econs society? (did you ever get that membership card?) are your sony ericsson headphones still driving you up the gaddamn wall, or did you buy an itouch finally (did pratchett write anything else? is he okay? godsdamn i hope he's alright. vimes...)

I hope they came through. I hope you're enjoying yourself and all. Nothing less, remember? I hope things are better over there.

And over here, I'll work harder to make things better for you. (I'm such an altruistic bastard; I should just let you rot and enjoy myself now, eh?)

Cheerio,
D.
(p.s. you're not alone. I hope this is not simply metaphorically true over there in the future.)

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 17:29:41 GMT

yes, it hurts. of course it hurts, by god it hurts. and all the time I'm wondering how I should behave, what I should do.

Well, what do you want me to do?

I know what I would like to do. I know what I want to do is to chase after you again, ask for another chance, plead, beg, reason, rant, scream, shout, ask again, do something, try, Jedi Mind-Trick or reverse psychiatry you, use The Voice and the influence and the persuasive power and just /incoherent hand gesturing, representing futility and frustration despite exertion.

But no, that's never what I do. It just isn't done.

And so I sit here and write about it, and bemoan my wrong decision. The next time, I promise myself, it will be different, and so it will be - I won't make this mistake, I'll make another entirely new unexpected one I won't realise until after it's too late.

What's most terrible, I realise, is to slowly realise that you're not thought of. To be constantly remembered and missed is possibly one of the most reassuringly warm and comfortable/comforting things in the world (well, not so much for the person remembering and missing you). A slanket and the memory of a long hug around you for when you go to the north pole makes you feel invincible, powerful, secure.

What's worse is not not-having, but not-having after you've had. The memory of having while you're not having.

God it's late. Why am I so angsty? I should write about happier things.

I like watching TV sitcoms episode by episode. Gives some sense of continuity. Would that life were sitcoms, then we'd all be secure with no worries, bad stuff wouldn't last beyond one episode (or two weeks), and everybody gets their girl in the end (or if not the season finale, then the final final season finale.)

Sitcoms go on forever ^^

economics is highly depressing.

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 03:11:25 GMT

optimism: I'm sure I'll win money at poker some day!

pessimism: I'll definitely lose money if I play poker. D=

cynic: hah, poker. it's set up so you'll lose money, don't play!

realist: even if I play a perfect game - and that, at that, is near impossible - I'll only profit like 1-4% of the betting average over a long period of time.

nihilist: so why the hell should I even bother? surely there's some better way of wasting my time and money.

On Disappointment, Rejection & Heartbreak

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 13:28:23 GMT

What do I feel?

In the aftermath, of course there is the immediate knee-jerk reaction. Whiplash. Anger, fear, hatred, pain, all the things to make you a good sith... Well, no. I'm not really like that.

To be sure, there's a lot of the five stages of grief and bargaining and denial and that sort of thing, but after a while you settle into a long-run supply curve for depression. (for those not fervently mugging economics: initially high levels of depression, gradually sliding down into a constant medium level of general depression).

It's not like after the Event*, after the rejection and disappointment and heartbreak you suddenly hate the thing or entirely lose affections for it...well, alright, sometimes it happens. But sometimes else, affections persist beyond.

===

*good bye David Eddings#. We will miss you and your tvtropes dealing of fantasy. would've liked to read your seminal work, but...

#Yes, "the Event" is a reference to Mr Eddings.

===

Things are such that, having failed at it, or at least having failed the first time, your convictions, your affections, are certainly challenged. And admittedly even now things are awkward between me and frisbee. For all the time and effort and love and energy I've invested, I've not really gained a whole lot (and let's not get started on that brief rendezvous with Rag Dance. In the name of the sacred blue, that was an entirely unrequited fiasco.)

You are disappointed. You are sad. You lose the incredible surety that yes, this is what you like, what you love, what you want, and what you want around you for the rest of your life. But it's not like it's going to stop you loving it. You're just a little (a lot) more unsure, is all. A little pensive, a little tentative, a little awkward...

It's not like I'm not naturally awkward. (in fact I'm so far naturally awkward I'm unnaturally awkward, one could say).

As the great philosopher Jagger once said, You can't always get what you want. I tried, I got it, I lost it, it happens. Que sera sera, what will be will be. And what gives me the strength to go on is the egotistical thought that all is not lost, and I may have another chance in future, or that I may get better in future, or that ... I know the law of large numbers hates me, but even the law of large numbers is subject to the law of large numbers, and one day, something will happen defying probability...

I'm not happy, but everything I've loved or still love - frisbee and life are two that come to the front of my mind shouting loudly waving their receipts - never really rewarded me. For all the time and energy and effort that I put in, I, to paraphrase once again the venerable Jagger, can't get no satisfaction out of it.

If they taught me anything, it is that things are entirely unfair, and that for most of my existence - for my life, my frisbee, and most things I love - I love an unrequited, unrewarding, illogical love. And curiously it is this requisition I require.

It's unhealthy, it's unhappy, it's a terrible existence, I know. But it's what I've become, and my ego must once again save me if I am to survive (after all, as my other blog would put it: cogito, ego sum).

And then, maybe someday, deep in time, things will go my way...

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 15:10:59 GMT

today somebody
said that i was quite handsome
probably lying =\

still, this sort of thing
a sinful narcissism
good for the ego.

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 15:33:35 GMT

today was better than the last.

maybe, just maybe...

today

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 15:55:39 GMT

today was...

well it wasn't a fantastic day. there were no trophies or strokes of amazing luck or best friends or bromances or beautiful goals (there was this one very ugly goal, but it was a goal and damnit I shoulda celebrated) or even good games.

But yeah.

maybe... maybe they're right.

I don't have what I want, and I don't have who I want, and I'm not what I want

but it's okay.

there are still some things

and they can make me happy.

Dont carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that its a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.

So let it out and let it in, hey jude, begin,
Youre waiting for someone to perform with.
And dont you know that its just you, hey jude, youll do,
The movement you need is on your shoulder.

你知道

Sat, 22 Aug 2009 14:14:15 GMT

这是一首简单的小情歌
唱着人们心肠的曲折
我想我很快乐
当有你的温热
脚边的空气转了
唱着我们心头的白鸽

这是一首简单的小情歌
唱着人们心肠的曲折
我想我很适合
当一个歌颂者
青春在风中飘着

你知道
就算大雨让这座城市颠倒
我会给你怀抱
受不了
看见你背影来到
写下我
度秒如年难捱的离骚

就算整个世界被寂寞绑票
我也不会奔跑
逃不了
最后谁也都苍老
写下我
时间和琴声交错的城堡
最后谁也都苍老

exit: slump

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 03:05:03 GMT

snap out of it, man. auto-recovery systems, activate. you're killing the both of us in there. snap out of it

my sacrifice

Wed, 12 Aug 2009 15:48:06 GMT

this i dedicate to you, in memoriam; one sleepless night.

for the good times and bad; for the (few) happy times and sad

I must move on. I must survive. I must survive.

I dedicate this sacrifice to melanie.

@dearxraymachine

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 01:32:34 GMT

you look like you need (dodododoooo)
a little something sweet (badodododooo)
to colour your day
and brighten your way
like a rainbow treat (ba-dum-badumdumdu)

for life's sometimes hard (dodododoo)
and sweet, bitter or tart (badodododooo)
but baby you see
oh when you're with me
all you'll need is a heart (do-bado-badooo)

let the candy kiss you (dodododoo)
let the dandy miss you (badodododooo)
when love gets you down
don't worry or frown
let the lollipop bliss you (da-da-da-da!)

look at the colours swirl (dodododooo)
in all of the world
there's no one as sweet
that I'd rather meet
i love you, girl... (dink, dink, dink dink diuumm)

from a rant.

Mon, 10 Aug 2009 15:45:56 GMT

What you need to understand is sorrow is an emotion, and that is sacred. It is sweet, even if it is bitter; it is to be treasured and appreciated, it is to be experienced fully and powerfully, like the touch of a lover's hand, or the sting of a lover's blow.

Sorrow is not an emotion to be whored out and prostituted in the streets, to be paraded in the eyeliners and black nails and tight, dark clothing and called the emo movement.

I spurn Emo; my true following is Angst.

(and no - this is not an emo post. this is a post concerning emo, in which I pick a fight with those who are emo because they are. seriously. there's no point being sad without a reason to be sad. I'm all for sturm und drang und melodrama and all that crap when there's a valid reason, but being sad for the sake of being sad is entirely pointless and cheapens the whole experience for the rest of us who feel genuine pain and, y'know, have a reason to be sad.

I know, I know - most of my blog entries are dark and angsty. It's a bad representation of me; I mostly blog when I am sad and need to say somethings which people do not need to hear (or that I need people /not/ to hear). I am trying to change my image.

But yes. People. Do not emo. It is pointless and worthless.)

money

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 13:32:46 GMT

Money, money, money
Must be funny
In the rich man's world
Money, money, money
Always sunny
In the rich man's world
Aha-ahaaa
All the things I could do
If I had a little money
Its a rich man's world

I used to live without really worrying about money.

I used to be ridiculously generous and tip, because that was what my father taught me.

But, well, things have changed. I doubt we can afford to be generous anymore.

Today I lost money at a game involving money I didn't realise involved money. I don't know why, all of a sudden, the lost of 3.35 rankles me so much. Anywhere else I would have laughed it off, but the knowledge that money was being played would certainly have influenced the playing style.

Still; the base problem lies - the problems with which all my major problems lie.

And I know it should affect me, but still - sigh.

Money, money.

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 17:26:32 GMT

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
only a man looking for a dream
I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
and it's not easy

woo-hoo-oooh

and it's not easy

to be

me

Sat, 13 Jun 2009 15:08:50 GMT

So for some strange reason a few weeks ago I was feeling pretty down and poor. Well, it's not new, and around the time I get disillusioned, etc, after all.

For some strange reason it was a fear of failure. Which, really, sort of fit what happened today.

A wise man once said that there was a line between failing, and not-failing. And he asked - who defined that line?

Ideally, I do - and I would. And so now rather than worry about failing, falling behind some line in the sand somebody else drew, I'm going to see if I can't draw my own line, and take heart in things.

...admittedly I still have a long way to go. Sigh.

But then again...

illusions shattered

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 16:33:01 GMT

Tonight, I help the president of a certain singaporean organisation regarding flying disc object game sports write a proposal, hopefully ending in us procuring fields and places for the Singapore Open. kind of like the Asian Cup, but for frisbee.

Several days ago he asked me "so, you know powerpoint"? I assumed he just wanted some help because he was uncomfortable with technology or something.

So today I'm making the entire presentation more or less myself. He just sort of sprayed information in my direction, gave me rough parameters and said "go do it". he's a bit of a cynical bastard and knows how to use people etc. etc. in exchange for teaching me and what not, maybe.

right around now, if you've read so far, you're wondering what I'm on about and what illusions were shattered. well, basically I've learnt and realised that acertainorganisationregardingflyingdiscsportsinsingapore, the organisation committee and whatho, basically are run by two people - an old man we affectionately refer to as Old Fart (behind his back, of course, and affectionately) and Fat Man. and that the exco basically does shit

and shortly, I guess, me, as I try to help with things and whatnot.

I started playing, and loving ultimate because of the culture. "it's cool, come down, we'll teach you" "it's cool, come down, we'll play with you" "it's cool, do what you like, it's all for fun"

this culture of welcome and acceptance. not "you suck, go away" it's "okay, we'll teach you. don't be an arse and listen to us, but it's coo. we teach you." it's why I (rather transferringly) love ultimate.

but now...

well, shit.

all I want to do is speak my mind (speak my mind)

Tue, 09 Jun 2009 14:53:22 GMT

if it's wrong to do what's right, I'm prepared to testify

if loving memes with all my heart's a crime

then I'm guilty....

no explanations, just guilty or not guilty (note, not "innocent", simply "not guilty")
--

Asked someone to marry you
Not Guilty

Kissed one of your Facebook friends?
Guilty

Danced on a table in a bar?
Not Guilty

Ever told a lie?
*giggle* Not Guilty

Had feelings for someone whom you can't have back?
Guilty

Ever kissed someone of the same sex?
Not Guilty

Kissed a picture?
Not Guilty (personal artifacts + self-designated holy symbols, yes. oh damn, not supposed to explain)

Slept in until 5 PM?
Not Guilty

Fallen asleep at work/school?
Not Guilty

Held a snake?
Not Guilty

Been suspended from school?
Not Guilty

Worked at a fast food restaurant?
Not Guilty

Stolen from a store?
Guilty

Been fired from a job?
Not Guilty

Done something you regret?
Guilty

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose?
Guilty

Caught a snowflake on your tongue?
Not Guilty

Kissed in the rain?
Not Guilty

Sat on a roof top?
Guilty

Kissed someone you shouldn't?
Not Guilty

Sang in the shower?
Guilty

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on?
Not Guilty

Shaved your head?
Guilty

Slept naked?
Not Guilty

Had a boxing membership?
Not Guilty

Made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?
Guilty

Been in a band?
Not Guilty

Shot a gun?
Guilty

Donated Blood?
Not Guilty

Eaten alligator meat?
Guilty

Eaten cheesecake?
Guilty

Still love someone you shouldn't?
Guilty

Have/had a tattoo?
Not Guilty

Liked someone, but will never tell who?
Guilty

Been too honest?
Guilty

Ruined a surprise?
Guilty

Ate in a restaurant and got really bloated that you cant walk afterwards?
Guilty

Erased someone in your friends list?
Guilty

Dressed in a woman's clothes (if your a guy) or man's clothes (if your a girl)?
Not Guilty

Joined a pageant?
Not Guilty

Been told that you're handsome or beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said?
Not Guilty (and this is sad.)

Had communication w/ your ex?
Guilty

DATING Someone?
Not Guilty and hopefully not for much longer

Get totally drunk one night and you have an important exam tomorrow morning?
Not Guilty

A total stranger treat you by paying your jeepney/tricycle fare?
Not Guilty (what the sod is a jeepney?)

Get totally angry that you cried so hard?
Guilty

le roi est mort

Tue, 26 May 2009 16:47:24 GMT

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt, and pillars of sand

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become
Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?

i promised you would know

Tue, 26 May 2009 08:33:48 GMT

it's funny. yesterday a guy i met was all "no news is good news at this point!"

Application status

The general stages for the application status are
Application received --> Application processing --> Outcome of application

Your current status is Admission denied

but it's not like I haven't suspected for a while now, anyway.

fmylife.

Thu, 21 May 2009 15:07:17 GMT

*im almost afraid to ask, but r the results out yet/

truly cannot make it says:

don't be afraid to ask.
and darling
you will know when the results are out
i promise.
there will be no pussyfooting about

no hush hush british penchant for overblown humility and understatement.
no "no overexaggeration please, we're british"
no.
there is either going to be a a phonecall at 3am in the morning with me going FUCK YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH into your semi-conscious ear

*y would u check at 3am...?

truly cannot make it says:
or there will be a great wailing and gnashing of teeth, and emo eyeliner so thick you would drown in it.