Leg cramps...

I woke up at 6 AM with a bloody leg cramp in my left leg. At that moment, all I could think about was chopping my leg off. Then I thought, I can't be a one-legged Chelsea-England-and all-my-other-obsessions-thrown-in fan! They need all my love. =P

I'm going for the camp! And in the indemnity form, they asked whether I have any kind of allergies. I wrote down: "Eggs and sotong". Yes, I am allergic to those two. One gives me a bad tummy ache, the other gives me skin rashes. And no, it's not in my head.

Went round scouting for Mosi-Guard! And came back home with a whole load of other things. My dad thinks I'm going to war or something else worse than a camp. I'm serious! He bought the Leukoplast plaster [water-resistant Hansaplast plasters not enough is it, uncle?], alcohol swabs, the stick version of Mosi-Guard [but it's called Kaps], two [yes, two!] bottles of Mosi-Guard, Perskindol spray [Thank God, it's not Sloan's! Sloan's will kill you!], Minyak Cap Kapak, Panadol Actifast, Dettol...eh, wait. Haven't bought Dettol yet!

Like going for war only...buy so much for what?

Oh, I did use the Perskindol for my leg cramp just now. =S

Can't wait for that...and tomorrow.

And since someone has been bugging me to do this [you idiot!], it's Francesc Fabregas' birthday today. He turns 19 today [OMG, HE'S MY AGE!!!]. And he's a month older than my 15 years. Silly girl and her obsession for Peter Crouch. What kind of Chelsea fan are you?

I shall not answer that. I will get all the wrong responses from crazy people.

Stupid referee. We should have gotten 3 penalties. Idiot.

We won the league anyway. So it doesn't matter. =)

I think I jinxed Chelsea when they lost to Liverpool in the FA Cup. I was listening to the World Cup remix of Keep On Moving [the old song I love to bits]. And there was this part where the commentator shouts Steven Gerrard's name as he scored a goal for England in that 5-1 win over Germany [that's was like eons ago!], few hours before the game.

I think I jinxed them. Next time, when Chelsea play Liverpool, remind me to NEVER listen to that STUPID VERSION of the song for maybe a week or two.

Excuse me, the majority of the population working in my little brain are on a day-off, so that's why I might write more senseless rubbish, because the other people up there are working extra hard to ensure that I don't lose all of my limited sanity.


Maybe it's the Perskindol's fault I feel a little slow...

**I miss you more and more, you know? I wish I could talk to you for one last time. But, both of us know that it will never happen. Things between us will never be the same again. I love you. Wherever you are. I wish I wasn't such a selfish and an inconsiderate fool. I don't think I can love anyone more than I love you. I never got a chance to thank you, though. Thank God, for I have been blessed with one year worth of your love. Thank you for being there when I was a pain, in pain, and going to cause pain. Thank you, for being able to reciprocrate my love. Thank you, for loving me just for who I am. Thank you, for all your insanely innocent jokes. Thank you, for being you. The you I learned to love.**

This sucks...I feel miserable now. =(

I feel like crying.

And I wonder why I was born really stupid. I'm serious. Just because I get reasonably good grades, doesn't mean I'm smart and that I know everything in this world. If I do, I would've shifted to some other part of the world [maybe the Bridge] and not live here, and probably going on tour with Maksim Mrvica or Frankie. Truth is, I'm not. I can never be smart enough for you or anyone else in this world. Next time, if you want me to do something, give me an instruction manual guide. That way, you won't have to call me stupid. I know I am. You don't have to tell me. Go tell and gloat to the world on how smart your other child, besides me, is. After all, everything that he does wrong, you don't say anything. In fact, you throw praises at him. Everytime I think I do something right, it's never right. FOR YOU AND FOR THE REST OF THE FUCKING WORLD. I can never be perfect and flawless like him. He has seemingly everything [but a girlfriend]. Me? What the hell do I have? NOTHING. ZILCH. ZERO. NADA. Stop asking me to do things when you know I am going to mess them up. Do it yourself. Sometimes, I try to help wherever I can to ease your pain, while forgetting about my own pains. But it never seems enough for you.

Thank you for making me feel so fucked up tonight. My good mood has vanished into thin air.

Goodbye, super-happy gloater. Hello, super-fucked up sour puss.

*Bluesy* out!