Claustrophobia

Life is what you make out of it, K says. I think he is fed up with me being so miserable everyday.

Mulling in the office, I swear the walls are closing in. Surrounded by folders, scheming office politicians and paper high risers everywhere, I wonder how the heck am I going to break free from this prison of my own making. It is not as if I know what I want to do with my life anyway.

See how I effortlessly turn into an urban Morticia without even trying? I used to go to school with this girl called Joyce who, like her name is so bright and positive and chirpy, it irritated the hell out of me. Of course I didn’t mean to. It’s the ying and yang of things.
Some people are happy, some people are dead.

Choy choy, 8th month, must be respectful of the departed. The Chinese believe that the 8th month of the Chinese calendar corresponds to the Hungry Ghost Month. It’s when the gates of purgatory are opened and the spirits roam the earth for one month before returning to their prisons for another year.

On another note, I really think a dog will do wonders to my life. How can anyone be glum with a dog? Yet dogs don’t really fancy me. They usually don’t give me the time of day. My brother’s ex dog even buried a chew toy under my butt for safekeeping, that stupid mutt.