Tell me who am I. Tell me why I am here. Tell me my purpose. Tell me that you are here, for me. If not, tell me i'm dead.

Somehow, when i read someone that i know's blog just now, i feel like i was intruding into his/her life. I can't really explain it, not sure whether it was the content that made me feel that way.
Most of the time people only show you the side they want you to see. You may go through 4 years knowing a person and still don't know what is he really, deep down? I daresay I know the Guys quite well, as we gone through 4 years of camps and hikes, but the rest I guess not. Even classmates of 4 years have not shown me who they really are underneath their cheery persona. What more people you only know for 5 months?
Sometimes, I get so fed-up wiht the superficiality of it all, yet I know I don't want to be alone. I want someone to talk to, someone who would listen to me. But I feel so hypocritical.
Sometimes I wonder if I act obnoxious just to prevent people from getting close to me, lest i get hurt. Maybe in the recesses of twisted, confused mind this survival instinct rules my cranial cells.
Sighz, all my good friends know I have bad PR skills. I am not a "socialist", I am not like weixiang who can make friends with anyone and everyone. I don't suscribe to the theory of "quantity over quality" for friends.
This question has always plagued my mind.

Was talking to jacob tan for a while, he was commenting on the poem that was published at the back of outlook mag. He said it wasn't me, and i do have to agree with him. Somehow, even I take to wearing masks. The very thing I have contempt for is what I do as well. The irony was never lost on me.