There's been some debate in the recent years whether video games should be allowed classification as a sport. The whole eSport scene took off more or less as a means for gamers to justify their professionalism in their area of expertise (and commercial people saw the opportunity to make a shitload of money but that's another story for another time).

As a person who does both sports and video games, I must say I'm disgusted.

Surprising? Not really. If you look at the contents of what differentiates a game and a sport, you'll see why I'm totally against the eSport movement. A sport is a game, but a game is not a sport. A game has the basics: a) conditions for winning (objectives), b) conditions for losing (rules) and c) understanding the opponent (metagame). Sports has all that. But it has an added dimension - physicality. One dimension which introduces so many different variables to the game - speed, strength, endurance and if a team game, you'll have to consider those variables for your team mates.

"Wait!", you might be thinking. "Aren't those variables also applicable to video games?". Yes, they are but physicality brings about another factor - choice. In video games, you can choose your strength, choose your speed, choose your endurance. Low tier, top tier. Rifleman, sniper, engineer, commando. Carry, jungler, support. Zoner, rushdown, turtler. In that sense, video games are a relatively more 'level' playing field. A slow person cannot choose his speed; a disabled person can't choose their physicality. In video games, this element of choice allows us to pick what suits us best and what we like, what we don't. In sports, we don't have that choice. We have to make do with what we're given no matter how disadvantaged we are. That's why sports challenges. It demands. It constantly requires atheletes to better not just their opponents, but themselves. Video games will never have that element.

Video games are about picking the best (or the best for you) and doing what you can with them. That's why they'll never be a sport. Because sport is less about what you have; and much, much more about how you use it.









Spine tingling.







Not entirely done with my essay outline due Tuesday and having the headache of a lifetime.







But most importantly, be happy :D







It's funny how people who were raised similarly, look so alike and love the same things can have such different lives.

Fate. A bigger determinant of life than most people think it actually is.







INTJs generally appear emotionally distant, unfeeling and disinterested.

Well, I guess that's a pretty good description.

'Appear' is the keyword here though.

This is why it hurts the way it hurts.  

You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache. 

You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much.

I wrote this for you

Every time I read your posts recently, it's like you wrote it to me. For me.







People really need to learnt to differentiate between lying, conniving, manipulative, arrogant, self serving assholes and genuinely nice, selfless, friendly, honest folk.

Especially when it's plain as day.







Writing. Is. Cathartic.







There are times I feel
At a loss it seems
When my troubles brew
And emotions thin
And I have to speak
But have no words to say
Need to talk
But scream instead
There are times that I think
That everyone's the same
And I know that's the biggest mistake
To ever make
But I can't get rid
Of this thought in my head
That in the end; it's all pointless
Everyone finishes the same - he says
I don't want to judge
But judge I do
Become disinterested
Too fast; too few
There are times that I
Give up before I try
That I hang up my gloves
Before starting the fight
I keep telling myself stop
Then I keep telling myself don't
It's like I go back and forth
It's like I tango
But with myself it seems
Inside my own head
Back, forth, back, forth
Then I concede instead
I hate to imagine
That I could be wrong
That I could have made
Mistakes all along
That people are different
That I can have faith
And then be disappointed
Once again
Sometimes people
Don't build walls
To keep others away
Lest their castle falls
Sometimes instead
Those walls are built
To keep people in
Till they can be healed







Play more, study more, gym more, think less.







I bet you one day you'll get bored of it.

One day, all the senseless pursuit, the mindless chase, the dreaming, the fantasizing, the craving, the hope, the satisfaction.

One day it'll all get boring. One day you'll tell yourself, fuck this, this isn't what I wanted. One day, it'll be too late.







Still a juvenile.







The one thing that can jolt me from my laziness.

Make my blood boil and put a smile across my face.







Head fuzzy, can't think straight, eyes tired, can't sleep.

Being sick is the worst.







I miss having a pet.















Did you hear that?

No, I doubt.

You can't even hear what you want.

How could you hear what other people desire?







We all chase happiness

But when we find it (or should I say when it finds us)

We realise that we did it wrong all along

We could never chase something that involves letting go







If everything was easy, nothing would be worth doing.

I think that maybe the root of all my laziness.

Everything is like... so menial.

I should just graduate.









Ok damn, I really like that singer no matter how gay/gu niang his gestures look, lmao.









Wow. Just wow. I always imagined the singer to be wearing a cowboy hat, strumming a guitar. I mean, yeah his face suits the voice, but I didn't imagine this song to be sung by a punk rocker. I still love the song though. Maybe even more now that it surprises me.

And in other news, the brunette's name is Emmanuelle Chriqui and DAMN IS SHE HOT.

Kthxbai.

You only fix the things you feel deserve to be fixed, as if you're a special kind of person who doesn't deserve to sort their own life out because of who they are. Like your brokenness is a symptom of being you. 

"I can let that wait, I don't need to do this because I don't deserve to have it done. My life is always only ever incomplete."  

And yet, no one deserves the full benefit of being you, more than you.

I wrote this for you

Ouch. That hurt. Or maybe it's not supposed to. Maybe it's supposed to inspire.

But yeah, it hurt nonetheless.







I remember this one phrase that I fucking hated when I was a kid and today, I think I was right to abhor it. I look around me and realise that that phrase has killed more people that drugs or cigarettes or alcohol or whatever-the-fuck-you-may ever will.















I miss having faith in people.

I've come to believe that maybe I don't have a place in this world.

It's like amidst all the activity, I'm the only one not moving.

Everyone is changing but I stay the same.

Slowly but surely, I'm being left behind and I just can't catch up no matter how hard I try.

Or maybe I don't want to catch up.

Because catching up to this mad race means leaving behind something else.

Some part of me that's important to myself.







The irony of intimacy is that it is the attempt to find someone you can safely expose your vulnerability to. Yet there is no other way of being intimate with someone unless you first expose your vulnerability to them and run the risk of getting hurt.

It's just like the Hedgehog's Dilemma.

Two hedgehogs meet on a cold winter's day.
They both feel cold so they try to cuddle together for a little warmth.
But they end up pricking each other with their quills when they get too close.
So they have no choice but to stay apart.

Ignore ignore ignore ignore. Just ignore it. Don't let it affect you. Sweep it under the rug. Keep it in your heart. Don't let anyone see it. Ignore it. That's precisely what you've learnt anyway.









I wonder how many times people need to proved wrong till they can accept that people are not to be judged by their covers. That greatness can exist in a person regardless of what they look like and what you think of them. How many times must the world put people down because they are afraid of them? Because they know someone like that is greater than what they'll ever be?

Greatness is independent of what you look like. Of what you think other people think and say of you. Greatness shines through all that. Greatness says "Fuck you, this is what I am. Look at me."







Sometimes I really wonder why do people say they enjoy long walks on the beach on their profiles when that's so cliched and just makes you sound like everyone else.

I really miss you, a lot.
I miss your voice; the way you talk.
I miss the shape of your lips; the softness of your cheeks.
I miss the way you smile when I kiss you on the forehead.
I miss the way you don't want to say goodbye after dates so you can spend a little more time with me.
I miss the way you squeeze my hands with yours so that you can feel me squeeze back and reassure you I'm there.
I miss the lying on the grass or sand and making the clouds out to be imaginary shapes.
I miss the way you're patient with me.
I miss the taste of your cooking.
I miss the hugs you give; the way you make me feel you never want to let me go.
I miss the sex; the shameless, guilt free, mind blowing sex.
I miss how you fall asleep on my shoulder.
I miss how you always smell so wonderful no matter what.
I miss playing with your hair while you're lying on me.
I miss wiping crumbs off your chin.
I miss rubbing your head and your reaction to it.
I miss planning dates that we'll go on together.
I miss the way you hold my hand around your waist; as though to tell me you want it there.
I miss the way you reach out and grab my hand when we're walking side by side.
I miss listening to your breathing while you're asleep next to me.
I miss the way you and only you can make me feel.
I miss you like crazy.
Even though I haven't met you yet.
So please
When I find you
Please understand why I can't bear to be apart.

The French phrase for "I miss you" is  'Tu me manques' which translates literally to "You are missing from me".

After you're gone, people will forget your name, no matter how important it was, and your face, no matter how pretty it was, and what you said, no matter how clever any of it sounded. 

The things you've done will crumble and fade and the places you once loved, will change and be given new names.  

You are only here for one moment and it lasts exactly one lifetime.

I wrote this for you























Disturbed sleep. Nightmares. Weird dreams. Difficulty falling asleep.

I either need to see a quack or I need to sleep a lot more.







The irony of thinking is that we feed both sides of ourselves with thoughts.

We feed the dark, brooding, condescending, impatient sceptic.

We also feed the happy, optimistic, sharing philanthropist.

We think, therefore we are. And yet we understand not what we really are.

And what still shocks me, is how often the thing that hurts you, looks like the thing that helps you.

I wrote this for you







My best ideas all come when I'm lying in bed in the middle of the night, not able to sleep when my laptop is turned off and  I'm too damn lazy to crawl out of bed and pen it down.

And then they leave the next morning and I can't remember what the fuck it was I wanted to write.

Multiple times.

Story of my life.







I'm the goddamn last minute miracle maker.







How I wish life wasn't complicated.

How I wish we all knew what we wanted the moment we were born.

How I wish we appreciated the things we have instead of constantly craving the things we don't.

How I wish we all learnt that contentment is true happiness and desires are the reason why we are unhappy.

How I wish we loved the people who deserve to be loved and returned love when given to us.

How I wish it was easier to forgive and forget than to be bitter and remember.

How I wish life was so much simpler.















Yesterday my friend told me something that made a lot of sense -

"Bryan, you're not a normal boy!"
"Why do you say that?"
"You're like Pinocchio!"
(of course the conversation didn't end there, but that was the crux of it)

Essentially, she went on to explain that she didn't mean it in a bad way, but rather in a neutral manner.

I went home and mulled over it. There must have been some reason to liken me to Pinocchio even though she could not explicitly give a reason for it. Then it hit me.

Pinocchio has no conscience. He doesn't understand why something are right or wrong and thus has Jimmy Cricket to serve as his guide.

Similarly, I have a very different sense of morality and social norms from most people. Or rather simply put, I'm different. I've never felt the need to conform to anything; be it cultural, social, peer, or parental pressure in my life. Not that they've never existed, I just have never felt this so called "pressure" that people speak of.

I do what I want and what I like and I see nothing wrong with that at all. I believe that I have some basic "good" morality guiding me that prevents what I want and like from being inherently evil or wrong. I don't feel to conform to people's expectations of me because I disregard them. They are meaningless to me.

This is not to say that I don't care about people's needs and wants or concerns. But I don't think their needs, wants and concerns should apply to a conception of how I should be or act or behave unless it affects them on some personal level or their freedom to pursue something they want.

Yeah, I guess I'm not a normal boy after all :/















Judgemental. That's the word I was looking for. The whole world is so judgemental.







"Doubt is not a pleasant condition. But certainty is absurd." - Voltaire























Perhaps the greatest problem with the way I live my life is that I become very easily obsessed with things.

I tend to find something I enjoy / like and drown myself in a constant stream of it, living it, breathing it, doing it everyday.

The difficulty occurs when I am suddenly thrust into momentary dryness. When I am without that something to drown in, suddenly it feels like my life has no further meaning. And I look back and wonder if I was wise to obsess over something so temporary.

But then, everything is temporary. Even stars die and rocks weather. Maybe it is better to drown oneself in the temporary while it still exists than long for the wetness when it's already gone.

But still, those dry spells in between are so soul shaking sometimes. The process of looking for something new to obsess over and getting over the fact that the things I was obsessed with no longer exist. It's an excruciatingly painful, often lonely journey that I dread. Or even the times when I am unable to bask in my obsessions for a while, perhaps due to a lack of time, or lifestyle circumstances, or the nature of the obsession itself disallows it from being enjoyed every second (as are most). They feel... empty.

Maybe Buddha was right. At the root of human life, when you remove all the desires and wants and needs. All that remains is emptiness. And we avoid it. We dread it. Instead we embrace the transient and temporary pleasures hoping to escape the void that eventually awaits.

I really don't know how I'm supposed to fucking enjoy this void though.

If you ever find yourself looking at the person next to you and wondering if you can do better, leave. Because they can definitely do better than you.

I wrote this for you








I'm never alone
I'm alone all the time
are you at one
or do you lie
we live in a wheel
where everyone steals
but when we rise it's like strawberry fields









Ah yes, so true.

I'm sorry, but no gun can frighten me and no word can hurt me. No wave can knock me over and no rain can slow me. No night can tire me and no fire can burn me. Because I have found the strength to do the things I believe in, and the will to stop doing the things I don't believe in. So I have discovered what it means, to be at peace. And you, my friend, will never find a big enough gun.

I wrote this for you







This obsession with staying awake seems to stem from both a vicious want to do something - anything - and the imaginary fact that staying up doing nothing is better than going to bed; in terms of actually doing something. Although I cannot profess to understand how this compulsion came about, I do know that it grips me in a nightly cycle; waxing and waning as time draws further past midnight, finally coming to a halt when rationality takes over and I convince myself that I am merely waiting for the impossible - doing nothing has never equated to doing something and never will. The lay people as well as those of the medical profession give this condition a name - or should I say, give a condition with similar physiological characteristics the name of insomnia. I am, however, convinced that the root of my disorder is psychic rather than physical, it is a mental illness that requires correction - not one of the body. It does seem that there are temporary relief-s, if not remedies, to the sickness - writing prose of any sort, poetry, stories, phrases, diary entries, thoughts, or simply drivel like this helps to alleviate the condition sufficiently long enough for me to lose consciousness. Perhaps the activity of composing words together drains me of sufficient mental capacity to finally appreciate the softness of my bed, the darkness of my room and the silence it offers - comforts to the tired and weary. Then again, perhaps it is not so much lethargy or exhaustion that is obtained from writing, rather it is catharsis; an unlikely outpouring of creative juices kept bundled inside me that I am from a day to day basis unable to express - an sudden, strong outpouring of thoughts, emotions and ideas that I keep bottled away as I go about my daily chores. Yes, I have written this piece specifically with the notion of an 18th Century English gentleman narrating it; accent and all and I hope you find it dandy as I have. Good night.







ENFP -> ISTJ -> INTJ

I've progressed slowly to the top right of the MBTI table. Over... about 7 years I guess?

And fuck. I'm in the completely wrong field based on the recommended career prospects for an INTJ.







First elbow, then knee, now wrist.

I'm going to fall apart at my joints once I'm 40.

If they put you back on the shelf, in exchange for someone else, don't worry. 

Someone better's coming along.

I wrote this for you









Another bloody amazing person. Who the world will judge because he looks like that. Who everyone will underestimate and stereotype. Who people will make jokes about, laugh at, and generally just put down before they've even met him.

Until he he opens his mouth. Until he shuts them up. Until he forces them to accept how amazing he is. Until he forces them to accept that he is more than meets the eye.









People don't really build walls to keep others out.
They build walls to see who bothers trying to get in.







I really feel like I have nothing to say nowadays.







Every time I go to the gym I feel like I'm the only person who trains for muscle density instead of muscle mass.

Howling at the moon.



Just a lone wolf.
1988
Single
Worldweary



Easy come
Easy go
Little high
Little low



His happy ending.


Emily


Designer: SaSuKe
image: AnimePaper



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