Words with Nest.

V: Fit or jazz?

N: Jazz, you see jazz is white light then red. Fit, is red with 2 pieces of white.

V:Damn. You know something? I think I place cars more important than girls now.

So it's Cars no.1, girls no.2!

N: Don't talk cock la, cannot one! Cannot one!


Sitting at the junction known to us exclusively as "Jhana Point", we look at cars and gawk at girls. Occasionally, the 10 year old within jumps out at the passing of super cars, we cheer with excitement wholeheartedly while onlookers are slightly amused by our antics. On the surface, our wordy discussion are only fuelled by our passion for cars and girls. And yet, at times we do share advice and touch on more austere issues.

N: That car shape looks suspiciously like an RX-7, but it's too long. Maybe he modded the body, but why would anyone want to change the shape of an RX-7?

V: Then again, it could be a Silvia S13. The front end has the exact same design although the sides looks like an NSX. Maybe he wanted to mimic an NSX?

N: Hmm.......maybe man. Maybe.

6 hours of appreciating womankind and automotive marvels, we start to ask ourselves...Is this a form of meditation? A place of freedom confined within an area no bigger than a stairway, ironic isn't it? We escape from disturbances and uncertainty, in a place where time has no meaning. The weight of reality has dissipated from our shoulders, only to return thereafter as we resume our roles in this rat race.

V: DUDE! Six o' clock, approaching fast!

-Silence-

N: She knew we were looking at her! Right after I turned she was looking directly at me, but yeah she's at least a good 7!

V: I know! That's why I called! Nice tan she's got!

Do I reject reality? Yes.

Does it help? Yes.

Does it come back to haunt me? Yes.

I know but do not understand nor do I comprehend. Therefore, I do not know. Nevertheless self-induced psychological trauma occurs, while the unwavering hatred of oneself lingers resultant of the dissatisfaction of not knowing. I know but do not know. I know but do not know. I know but do not know. I hate regimentation, I hate repetitions, I hate myself. For being human, for being so flawed and for falling into emotional traps time after time. I am a fucking idiot. So damn predictable.

N: You eating dinner? How about some Indian food?

V: Yeah, I could go for some Roti Prata.

N: Is the one near cheers good?

V: Roti Prata's good, Teh-Peng's good and so is the Mee Goreng.

N: Okay, cool let's go!

I am a hypocrite. A part of me wishes for the worse, while the sweet sounding words I say beg to differ. A part of me wished I never said that, wished that the day never came and wished you were still with me. Sore loser. Sour grape. I let it happen again, I never learn.

I need to cool my head. I'm cool. Just blowing off some steam.