Dear diary,

I've taken self-debasement to a whole new level. Wanting to quit my unhealthy obsession with my computers, I now spend entire days glued to the TV, just channel surfing, watching any program that remotely catches my eye. Bad move.

I caught four romance movies on HBO/Cinemax/Star Movies in two days. I caught a few episodes of Spongebob Squarepants TV series. And their replays. I caught HK dramas, couldn't tell the difference amongst them; seemingly same actors/actresses, similar filming locations, similar plots, same sense of humour. I watched AXN, ESPN, Bloomsberg, BBC, Phoenix, National Geographic, Animal World, Discovery channel, practically every channel available save for that French channel that I can't enunciate. I'm not that bored yet.

The worst part of it all? The love movies I watched. They were nice, yes, I loved them, even the bittersweet ones, but they never failed to jab at a certain nerve. The feeling of inadequacy. The stirrings of tender passion and the inadequacy to nurse it, think about it even. I have no love life to speak of whatsoever right now, and I suspect my little longings for a love relationship is not so much derived from a need for love or to be loved, rather more so a need to reaffirm it. Yes, it's this childish impatience for reaffirmation that keeps my mind fixated on the subject of love. To know if love could actually be anywhere near cinematic glory, a quarter of it even, and not just figments of conniving scriptwriters' imaginations. Confound it.

I probably don't deserve to see the best side of love, and I'm not wishing that. It needn't even have to be me to experience this elusive love that will compel, convince and captivate me.

Just something to blind me from the hurt that I see in the people around me who lay in the smouldering wreckages of their destructive relationships.

Something to let them break free.