4am in Singapore

    It’s 4.05 am in the morning,
    & I’m absolutely awake, running on my reserve brain juice as epiphany likes to slap me at times like this.
    Just a type out of what it’s like 4am in Singapore. (a male’s perspective)
    [it’s just a random piece that i’d managed to finish about a short story of a guy struggling at 4am in Singapore.]
    nevertheless, I’ll be thankful if you can relate to that.
    yes, days like this. (so either you get it, or you don’t)
    & please pardon my fucking mistakes.
    alittle scream out to the introverts out there.
    you’re not fucking alone. (no pun)

    It’s 4.06am in the morning,
    You looked at your wristwatch laying at your desk,
    You stared into the dead screen as it slowly transits to your blank screen saver.
    You moved your mouse, keeping your screen alive as if trying to keep you the same way again.
    You looked at the mess on your table, the receipts from afew nights ago, the loose change which you dug out half-heartedly from your worn-out jeans as you scrambled into you room while trying to take off the skinny jeans which you wore the other night trying to impress the girls, and you swore some change ended up under your bed which you’ll get it next time.

    You stared at your Facebook page as if hoping for something to happen,
    nope. Nothing’s gonna happen.
    loneliness took over, as you looked around for whoever’s online, hoping there’s someone who shares the same cold. You took up your phone, scrolling Instagram as some infamous youtube cover droned on in a long random playlist and the occasional clicks of your favourites by the suggestion bar.

    Fuck, you did not just click that break up song.
    You opened yet another word document, not for your schoolwork, but for your unnecessary emotional scribbles.
    As your break up song reaches its bridge, you closed your eyes, and breathe, feeling the cool wind flowing from the oscillating fan, only to be greeted by the god damn smell of the haze that made you put off the running routine that you picked up again a few weeks ago.
    You pinched your half flabby leg muscle, as you cursed silently.
    You just picked up the momentum and now it’s all gone up in smoke.
    You clicked at the youtube’s home page now, scrolling through what’s hot, recommended, and decided to watch a few trailers.
    Yes, you can’t wait to watch the new Captain America movie, but you’ll have to find a date for that.

    Regrets start filling in your head again as you reminisce the good time, the box of movie ticket filled to the brim, which is kept in another box and she always have no idea what the hell is with your obsession with boxes, but nevertheless still loves and accept you for who you are and watches geeky superheroes film with you, like how you do the same and went through the vow with her sobbing and wetting your shirt.
    After a few random videos, you ended up clicking on a thumbnail with boobs, only to find yourself watching something totally, stupid, ridiculous and unrelated.

    You opened up several chat sites.
    “Hi, ASL?”
    “hey babe! not sleeping?”
    After next-ing afew desperadoes who can’t even type properly because they have their dicks in their hands, you gave up, only to find yourself shaking that stupid chat app that you download just for the sake of looking at girls and saving their photos because you’d got no balls to talk to them.

    You click who’s near you, and you found some babes within your league, and fingers crossed, you sent them some greetings. 10 minutes after the indication of them having read your message but didn’t reply, you knew something was wrong. Fuck that. Girls are sluts anyway.

    Too lonely, you went for the ultimatum as you hit that porn site.
    A huge sigh of relief hit you as it’s not snuffed up & blocked yet.
    You clicked a few videos, opening them in new tabs, legs shaking with excitement as you peered out of your room making sure that everyone’s asleep. You reach for your half tangled Beats, plugging it in excitingly and before you know it, the moans of the Japanese schoolgirl filled your ears.

    You always make sure you have some fucking Kleenex within your grasp.
    Still awake, you went up, flushed your Kleenex down the toilet bowl as you used to keep it in the trash can in your room and the smell of semen would reek.
    You decided to take a pee as well and wash your dick for good measure.

    After hitting the flush button, you looked at the mirror,
    You try convincing yourself that you are not that bad,
    if not for that crooked teeth,
    if not for that pimple beside your nose
    if not for that screwed up haircut you got because you deserve it for saving on haircuts
    if not…
    you sigh and drag your feet back into your room, slumping down back onto the chair.

    You opened up your games, ahh, what could ever go wrong when you’re cruising in paradise city, or throwing fucking shurikens, or gunning down zombies. There’s always a retry option, and you know your fucking AIs will always get your back. Haven’t you always aced in that dating sim game? And yet you ponder what actually went wrong.

    Mind drifting, you’re back to the meaningless scrolling of feeds again, before heading to summoner’s rift.
    You called for MID, only to find some loser who’s awake somewhere else in this sunny island insta-locked (instantly choosing a champion, and locking in) Ahri on you because;
    1. he might have a bad day
    2. he’s just a fucking troll
    And it ended like the latter when the nexus blows up with the red-litted defeat scowling at you.
    You cursed at your fate.

    Your torrent had a notification popping up just when you’re attempting mental suicide.
    “shion 0201 -snis091 has finished downloading, click here to open file”
    you watched in awe but you’re too tired for round 2, so you KIV it with a smirk on your face.
    & you wished you have a girl like that. For you would not be succumbing to meaningless sex with your left hand.
    You looked at your finished torrents, the endless list of porn and movies that you wanted to watch but put it off.
    You’d got a hell lot to backlog.
    but you close it anyway, there’s always another day for this.

    You’re back on youtube again, opening some mixtape.
    It’s time for some Calvin Harris therapy as you always hope to find love in a hopeless place.
    Oh, that girl in the elegant black glittery one-piece dress you met at Zouk,
    God, she’s so cute. (pretty, beautiful, you bet she’s got a kind heart even though she grind with other guys)
    you regretted again, not taking her number.
    And there’s the other one, that poly girl with a ponytail which you didn’t “take” because your friend wants her.
    A little part of you died inside as you saw them making out as your friend attempts to hi-5 you behind her back.
    You’re disappointed in yourself and you decided to make up a few more rules for yourself that you might not follow or even remember tomorrow.
    “fuck, next time see chio bu i chiong liao”
    “next time must have balls talk to them first”
    “ah, I have the book right, the jio zhar bo book. next time take out read liao”

    How many next time do you have?
    But did anyone remember the good deeds you did in silence?
    how you offered a sobbing girl a pack of tissue,
    or how you carried a drunk girl out of the club in the least obscene way possible which prevent her from sleeping with a jerk, who might go raw on her because he has a “jiao bin” (cock face) and because he can’t hold back his fucking cum so she might be sitting outside some clinic crying and slapping herself while waiting for her turn for abortion?

    Fuck, you drew a conclusion: Nice guys finish Last.
    You got up, took a stick of Winston reds with you and grab your lighter as you head out of your room.
    You traced the familiar steps along the dark living room,
    You pushed open the window and lit up your stick.
    You sucked it all in, as you felt the nicotine kicked into your bloodstream, inhaling all of the irony dosages of poison that stood by you in times of need.

    You looked out at the dark blocks of HDB opposite as you slowly exhale,
    Tracing the little windows “boxes” with lights still on, you always wondered about their life, about their story.
    Which you would never find out.

    You saw a seem to be “bra-less” girl standing by the window, a block away from you, in her oversize tee, taking a smoke. You swore you saw her nipples as boy did she not expect some loser to be out smoking by the window still. You looked at her so hard that you might actually burn a hole through her face, but before you know it, it’s game over when you didn’t manage to get her attention in a stick’s time. She’s too busy with her cell phone anyways. Dammit! you curse and flick your stick down, while you looked at the swirling light descending before tumbling into darkness as the miniature flare extinguished upon the impact.

    You’re back at your computer again, meaningless.
    You ignore your imaginary check list of works, you might not even finish typing that emo rant that you opened just now.
    what do you know? procrastination is your best friend.
    You looked at your wrist watch, which is still laying in the same position,
    it’s 10 minutes after 5, tick tock
    Here we go again…
    It’s tough.
    Yes, nights like this,
    it’s really tough…

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