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hamburgers without the buns

wrist slashers come in many forms. and there are those who are circumstantially forced to stay home and wallow in self-misery at the dearth of friends and company who would normally join you in square rooms, mimicking the dancing queen. blame the exams and blame the cruel necessity and practicality of part-time jobs. so on the last wednesday night back home in singapore, i will ponder about life, not in the soothing cold of summer rain thinking that heaven is a place (called zouk) on earth, but rather, figure out life in the last 4 weeks at the onset of the ridiculously long journey back to warwick. and there is no way to condense my thoughts into paragraphs that accurately and effectively capture my appreciation to those who have made an effort to catch me live in singapore, and in particular people who have accommodated my whims and sometimes demanding requests to mambo. so yes, for all the mahjong sessions and lunches and dinners and suppers and mambo, i'm going back in three days a much loved, much satisfied person.

munchies attack at weirdest time. like NOW.

“hamburgers without the buns”