Dizzy

Hong Kong is weird. Everything is so packed, clustered, in-close proximity of each other. Yet, it is peaceful, slow. As though the earth and the denizens of this small landmass(es) have all consented to living like sardines, without inflicting upon eachother the hectic traumas that would normally befall others living in a densely-populated environ. The skyscrapers, apartment buildings, and mountaintops all stand together, as though the monoliths of man are in a competition to best their natural-counterparts in height and splendor.

That, or I'm woozy from the impromptu flu-shot that nice doctor lady gave me before I went on the plane.

It's cold here. The winter-time wind outside has developed malevolent sentience and had somehow went through the glass walls of this terminal. All of that just to make my lap cold. I would never thought the burning heat of my laptop's undercarriage would be so relieving.

If-It-Doesn't-Make-Me-Cry-Like-A-Little-Girl, No Gain.

Every fiber in my body tightens and winces as she began to rip off all of those infernal hairs with a pain that, if expressed in inappropriate expletives, would betray the soft-spoken and effeminate nature that caused me to undergo this experience in the first place.

As the auburn-haired attendant took her hands off my forehead, a certain rawness started to settle in. As though my face would be rubbed raw with many tiny salt-laden pumice stones whenever an emotion other than sheer terror was being expressed. There was also another sensation that was present. A certain relief or freedom associated with the sudden renunciation of an ample, troublesome weight. On my face.

Only after the wall of agony-induced tears were blinked away could I peer into the mirror clear enough to see the reflection that stared back at me with a content smirk. Any earlier doubts were seen as childish after seeing how much this had paid off.

After years of looking like an awkward schmuck, I can say I finally look like a normal person now. In the least, its a step in the right direction. Thank goodness for threads and the women skilled enough to trim eyebrows with them.

The colour is irrelevant. The important thing is that I can finally smile wholeheartedly

:D

This is Noelle. She's awesome. She also squeezes when she hugs :D

The Weather Is Nice Up Here

There comes a time in a man's life when outside eyes shall judge him purely by the threads that rest upon him.

Julius Ceasar rode into battle with a lustrous golden breasplate that left his foes stunned in awe.

Edward 'Blackbeard' Thatch's crown was adorned with a unique feathered tricorn, a sight which could only invoke the image of a trident in the Fallen Angel's grasp, rightly so.

Me, however;

I have girl jeans.

Neat and Orderly

I got me some legs.

"I'm weak, I'm weak"

"I have an Illness. I'm in my diseased state"