Wednesday, February 21, 2018


My life isn't even worth one coin.

Actually, there is no follow-up to that, I just wanted to say at 27 years old, on Feb 22, 2018, my life and all I own isn't worth one single Bitcoin. I mean, if you don't count my money that is tied up in CPF (ie. our government-mandated 20% "savings" that I'm unable to touch until I retire at 97 billion years old or if I stop being a citizen of Singapore for five years - meaning, once I've migrated and renounce my citizenship, I will have five years to count down until my trip around the world or something).

Bitcoin apparently fluctuates quite wildly, though, so perhaps next month I would be able to own five? Meh, who knows. Who cares. Life will end. Follow your bliss. Also: not that I have any interest in owning Bitcoin. The more things you own, the more things own you. Is it time to rewatch Fight Club? Perhaps, perhaps not. My life is ending one word at a time.

Today, I asked Adam what he's currently reading (answer: Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami) and when I opened my laptop to blog, I realised our old iMessage conversation history had all reloaded itself and I was enjoying my reminiscence until I accidentally clicked close on the tab, GOD FUCKING DAMN.

Will I ever get over this man? Perhaps, perhaps not. But you know, life ends, follow your bliss and all that. If I want to read about us being cute and enjoying each other being cute, I WILL DO SO. Anyhow, I'm sure there is a way for me to retrieve the conversation somewhere in the archives of my iCloud or whatever. Someday I'll do it. Or maybe not. Don't know, don't care. Life will end.

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