#anib

I’m thrilled that my song “Another Night in Berlin” has been added to the “Indie Pop Gems” playlist by Chill Select Fam. You can listen here:  open.spotify.com/playlist/1GrsfODA6AN1MrYI9xEMuU

he brings negative aura to our club. he’s the one to be blamed for everything bad that happens to us

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Jeremy Lim added my song “Another Night in Berlin” to his ‘Sirens: Peak Female Vocalists’ playlist. Listen here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7ppejyHC3TVQt4v0khoewk 

any hope of success is fleeting; how can i keep leading when the people i’m leading keep retreating? [x]

The rigid arms which belonged to the man that had one day been a castle ruthlessly shoved the slim figure they had stopped, straightening her until he was sure she would not fall again. Then he broke contact, looking her over with squinting eyes, trying to see through her mask of apparent perfection. He knew there had to be some kind of manoeuvre behind that supposedly random accident, but he could not see it, and he was not used to being unable to think ahead of his rivals. There was something he had missed out, but he would not put up with it. He hated feeling that there was something out of his control. “I’m sorry to let down your narcissism, but I don’t faint on people when I want their attention, I just demand it”. She let her eyelashes drop ever so slowly, following the action by lifting her eyebrows and shaking her head with careful and controlled elegance. She held her chin up and attempted to resume her pace, only to stop one second later. The man was not going to allow the enemy to escape without obtaining a victory. The general could not conceive a defeat, especially against a woman. His iron eye was fixed upon her face, analysing every flinch, every breath. He was not going to move until he was given the information he wanted. “Tell me what the hell is going on and we will not have to face any further problems. What do you want from me?” His voice was rusty iron, with a glint of sharpness which made his question a threat. “What do you think?” She crossed her arms too, but in a much cooler and relaxed way, impatiently waiting in resignation for him to finish his pathetic show. “Perhaps I only want you to move aside and let me pass”. She lifted her eyebrows once more, smiled, then chuckled and finally burst out into a ringing, clear, high pitched laughter, as artificial as her whole image. “I honestly believe it is you now who is trying to get my attention,” she teased him. “Perhaps, if you were younger… I’m so sorry, age must be terrible, but I can not bring myself to like you.” She looked disgusted. “Good try, though. And don’t be offended, there are many fish in the sea.” The old man remained rigid as a statue, his face an iron mask, with the jaw clenched tight to control the tension. She was so pedantic, so narcissist, so arrogant and so irritating he honestly wanted to punch and destroy her pretty face. And the worst part was her condescendence. He could not put up with that. Thankfully, it would not be for too long. “Mark my words, Sunday Boss. One day you shall come to me, begging, but I will turn away. I will not catch you again, so you better make sure you do not fall.” He frowned slightly, looked up, and then at her again. “But we all fall, Sunday Boss, we all fall. Perhaps you should change your heels to straight boots. Although it is most rewarding to see the downfall of those who attempt to stand higher than where they are meant to be. You are one of those people, Sunday Boss,” now he was just mocking the name, “and you will suffer.” By then she was already walking around and past his body block, but the old man kept speaking, in a tone loud enough for her to hear without him having to turn around. “When the day comes and you remember these words, it will already be too late. Life is like the Games, you rarely get second chances”. He looked at her walking away, drumming the floor with her needle-sharp heels, enjoying her victory and laughing in her inside at the pathetic words of a defeated old man. But she never stopped to consider that the general never made empty threats and that he was right, most of the time. He knew what she thought too well, because he had been the same. And he had fallen. But life had given him the gift of a second chance, and he had learnt. It hurt him to see how others would not listen but it did not hurt too much. A dark part of him still wished for Sunday Boss to fall, hit the ground, smash her bones, suffer, cry and never, never, never rise again.

Gwaith: Yes. Bae's going to wet himself, I'm gonna throw up, Ava's gonna run away, and you're going to die. Shall we synchronize our watches?