It's eating me up inside.
You imagine it, impossibly entirely captured in a definite moment; a single image of you in a cotton dress, back against a wall, looking away, imagining what could have been. You live, drenched in your acoustic world of pure, biting loneliness and nonchalance.

My name is Luka.
I live on the second floor.

Baby, you can drive my car.

A.very.very.long.sentence.

In between staying in school till midnight doing work in the dark, scaring people with my zombie-like appearance attributed to endless late nights, late-night-recording-in-studio-freaky-scares, inflicting shiny stains on my keyboard and mouse, and insane delirious breakdowns at a certain someone's inability to speak without going off-pitch, a certain group of some of my favourite MCM-ers and I somehow found the time to make prank calls to friends whom we knew would somehow believe that they'd just won an animal lookalike contest held by the Singapore Zoological Gardens.

Jasmine would be proud.