I've decided to hate life.

Much better. Ahh...

Why? Just because... Some days I take a look at my life, at myself, and wonder what became of those wonderous dreams I had not so many years ago. I ask myself why I've become so much meaner ever since I've started working... and then I realise that I've gone from being a shy, sweet girl who tended to let people walk all over her... to a mean, cynical b***h who still lets people walk all over her.

Recall all those personality tests (albeit not scientifically tested nor empirically proven) that state I'm a wonderful person, full of charm and charisma, capable of attracting anyone I so choose. Moreover, I'm supposed to be the perfect girlfriend - sweet, sexy, nice, caring, able to hang out and be one of the boys. Really? If that's so, then why do I always feel as though I'm trying too hard to make people like me?

And what about my much-vaunted linguistic ability? I feel as though I've writing pure crap, just plain drivel. I find myself unable to find more elegant synonyms for what I'm trying to express. When it comes to speaking, I lapse into hated Singlish and slang, and just refer to things as... "thingy".

Forgive me. It's been one of those days. My knee hurts, my back hurts and I was fairly nauseous this morning.

And it's November. I tend to have a hard time liking November.