I am a nervouswreck
My real name is actually Harold Gong Haoran
A boy who is misunderstood by many.
Havent had even 1 relationship yet.
Influenced by his gay friends

He is helpful.
A pessimist.
Thinks he is a loser.

Known by my class as GAY>>>Shi Shan say I am still 1 rank below GAYLORD.
Luckily I dont have the gay genes(heng..) and wont become an actual homosexual.

Hopes.
1)get a gf(although it is impossible)
2)Get my PSP fixed!!
3)Get a new phone(3 years laterT.T)and it can be of any brand but LG(slow!!)
4)become class vice chairman next year
5)Get into RJC
6)become a prefect
7)get into scouts 02 and Science club

Gd @ keepin secrets cos i often forget them(PSPS I got bad memory)
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from peter xiiv: They felt like a scar on my mind, wrapped in within that concealed space. 'Stay', I felt a whisper behind my back, there was this insatiable force pulling me back from the corridor where we used to walk at. read more...

Hihi….
I have nthin to post so I decided to post this random crap.
It is HALF of a PLOT of a story between 2 brothers…………
Dun expect too much…
Remember—this is only half of the plot.

The weapons were expertly positioned at their opponent’s most vulnerable points. Now it was the test of skill between those two. No one else had to be involved in this. Or should they say that no one must be involved in this. The matter between those two could only be solved by them themselves. Anymore interference would be too costly a price to pay.

The two muscularly built men eyed each other, unflinching. The tension between their fiery gaze could be cut with a knife. Every movement would dearly cost them their life. As second passed, their straining eyes gradually got used to the dim surroundings, and for every millisecond, the two men’s identical and brilliantly blue eyes were skillfully picking up information of their surroundings, with their mind whirring at inhuman speed, calculating the amount the tension in their opponent’s muscles, predicting his next move, and already, they were already eight steps ahead of each other. Not only that, they were also visualizing the whole of the battlefield in their mind, calculating the amount of space for any movement and the every single delicate twist and turn of their supple body and the specific areas and way they had to land to reduce or prevent any injuries.

Although they were already ahead of their opponent by eight steps, they dare not underestimate each other, for it was obvious that for both of them to survive until then was no mean feat for any other sniper, even professionals would face impossible difficulties. The intense battle had already lasted for two hours, without any victor.

With their arms and legs slickly bent at unimaginable angles, and positioned with care, they were able to move almost three hundred and sixty degrees to prevent and any attack from about any direction, and it also increases the speed, range and the reaction of their limbs, allowing them to unexpectedly strike out at any openings the opponent had left vulnerable to attack. No one fidgeted. Every movement meant instant death. Their next move meant everything. They now had nothing to lose. Despite having the heavy burden of deciding their next move weighed upon their weary shoulders, their hearts did neither miss nor quicken a beat. They were truly professionally trained, and equipped with talent that ran in their family.
They eyed each other with a gaze so fiery that one could wither on the spot, but it was clearly visible that they were physically exhausted, but even worse, they were severely mentally exhausted, and already, they could feel fatigue creeping like an uncontrollable plague numbing many areas of their body, hindering their movements. They were severely exhausted, panting and gasping for air in short and shallow breaths, their bodies covered with perspiration, soaking their clothes. Every pore in their body was opened, trying to cool their overheated bodies. Their clothes were no longer plain and clean, it was now tainted with blood and mud. Severe bruises and cuts covered their arms and legs, and one of them had a deep cut on his face, narrowly missing his eye. Their arms that held the gun was already trembling. Right now, even the weight of a pistol seemed like a ton, not to say their strained pair of legs, supporting their whole body. They could already feel their sensors failing, eyes were getting more and more blurry, and ears were picking up lesser and lesser sounds. It was not just a battle to test one’s skills and agility, but now, it had also become a test of mental and physical limitation. Right now, they have long surpassed human limitations—every action was now based on raw instinct.