your face...

...is your fortune. Or so they say.

I'm broke.

Apparently, according to my mom, my grandma cries herself to sleep because her oldest grandson that can pass on the family name (me, that is), is ugly. I suppose it should comfort her by telling her I don't plan to have kids. Or get married, for that reason. Maybe I should tell her I'm gay. That should provoke interesting response.

My mom ain't helping much either. She took a look at this pic:

"Who is this girl?"

What the fuck?

I have a new cousin. I can't remember his name.

Let's hope he can fill in the big shoes that a grandson should. I failed. And if my brother turns out anything like me, he'll fail too.

I'm quite pissed. I hate it when my parents tell me off for anything, especially in public. Sometimes, I wonder if it's me. If I'm the childish one to sorta deserve admonition the way you'd scold a child. And if so, is it my fault? Can you expect me to behave any more adult if you insist on treating me like a child? I suppose not. At any rate, I don't act. I don't pretend. At least, not all the time. But the treatment continues regardless.

I'm so fucked. A look in the mirror confirms that my grandmother probably isn't wrong. A look at my mannerisms also confirms my parents opinion of me. And a quiet sit down alone shows that inside, I'm probably equally fucked up.

Walking in the Curve today, I almost wanted to ask my parents: if I died tomorrow, what would you do with the money you plan to spend on my Uni fees? The more I look at it, the less point I see in continuing this course of existence. I will never accept the life of a desk jockey, and I don't think I could actually do a business of my own. Any money spent on me from this point onwards seems like a pathetic waste.

It turns out that the downpayment for this house was paid just after my dad paid 6k for my first piano. It seems he's still not too happy that I haven't gotten anything tangible out of it. As I know it, he's a man to get the most out of his investment, and frankly, this one is sort of the kind that will keep taking, and has no dividend. And, I'm talking about me.

Went out for dinner with Tjit and Darien. SS2 after 7 in that food court place is teeming with chicks. As in, hot chicks. Plenty of eye candy for Tjit. From his eyes alone, which were basicaly glazed over. Darien was quite used to it, since he comes here almost all the time. Me, I dunno. I just sat there. This chick in a Hotlink staff uniform comes up to sell us phone numbers, I just wave her off.

Darien: What la you, chicks come, chit chat a bit la.

Me: Want to say what? I don't need a new number, but I can certainly do with yours?

Tjit: Yeah! He he he...

Me: *swt*

I make this most weird of statements.

Me: Strange thing is, I'm not attracted to girls who are attracted to me. But I'm attracted to girls who aren't.

Darien: So, you weren't attracted to Evon.

That hit me like a brick. I was. And probably still am. I know for certain I loved her. Any maybe still do. In a way, how she was, and is, special is that there was a mutual attraction. In general, that doesn't happen all the time. For me, it was plain unique. As far as I know, nobody ever loved me that way.

Why do I wax lyrical over the past? It's driving me insane. I know I'm fucked. I know I'm likely to have a nervous breakdown by my next birthday. I know I'll likely have a suicide attempt sometime in this life, and fail miserably at it. And I know that I'm not helping anyone here. Sigh.

People are telling me to just get laid so I can shut up. Maybe just skip that, and shut up. The more I talk, the more I seem to screw things up. Liz says I look so happy in my pics. Maybe, it's the fact that I'm so good at lying about everything, that even my outside is starting to believe it. I'm a most convincing actor. I can even act that I cannot act. And best of all, I never knew I had the talent.

My marks are fucked. Verily so. Anything less than a 90 is not useful for my purposes. And I won't likely have that 90. My marks have fallen so low, I need an oil rig to dig for it. If it isn't, it certainly feels that way.

It never rains but pours. The bottom of the cycle is followed by the downturn of many unrelated things. I normally wouldn't give a fuck about the opinions of others. But it seems, that in the past year, I've changed. And not just once. I think I'm becoming normal. And for that, I fear for my soul. Finally.



Meh.