The day after the night before is usually pretty ugly. Cold sweats, failures to connect, throbbing headaches - in short, major discombobulation. Not pretty.
Usually, when my evening's not quite doing it for me, I pay and I leave. I head home. I try to avoid the drama. This past Friday night was different because I decided to stay on and hang out with yick.
I figured the escape act wasn't doing me any favours so why not just stick it out and revel in the feel-fest. Call me a masochist, but I wanted to see how long I could take the discomfort of awareness.
It didn't take long.
But I stuck it out, dragged my sorry ass to another club, confessed on that dance floor and eventually ended up having an early breakfast in some food court in some corner of KL at 4 in the morning (random karaoke included).
For someone who wasn't trying to escape, I sure as hell was doing a whole lot of avoiding.
Is it true that the yick that doesn't kill you actually makes you stronger?
Why can't the Sex And The City movie be here already?
1 comment:
Who the hell is yick? Describe it?
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