Half a year is pretty long. And it has been a good time. Not many regrets, none I can particularly think of. Of course, I still recall some particularly embarassing times for myself, more of the pai seh and head-shotness types, and they're all in good spirit. Thanks.
For those of you who tak faham, all will be explained, maybe soon. For those of you who do, keep it to yourself. Thanks.
Meh.
I sat for the SAT on a Saturday morning. Meaning, this morning. Those silly Americans, they make these papers so easy. Strangely, though, half the room was sweating away. Maybe it's something I didn't see? Whatever. Anyways, I'm just doing this for fun, just to see how good I am, and maybe win a scholarship to some Ivy League school? That would be so cool, to say I turned down an offer from Harvard. Lolz.
I'm back in shopping mode. It's time I gotten rid of all that junk I have in my closet. I have these really huge shirts, those I bought in November. How cute, I used to be so fat, walrus like (uhoh, Sister Furong!). Well, the last time I put something on from that time, it was so unbearably loose that it felt like I was wearing a bathrobe or something. And since I've acquired a penchant for tight-er fitting clothes, namely something slightly closer to the body, to outline my nice sillhoute-with-no-real-definition-but-you-can't-tell-anyways-since-I'm-wearing-clothes-oh-fuck-I'm-still-fat. Celaka, tetek besar tapi bukan pecs jadinya.
New clothes, new clothes. If I was better looking, with a ripped bod, I'd pass off as a metrosexual very easily. Or gay. Which doesn't really bother me, since I always found it fascinating how people treat gay people. At least, if I'm poorly treated, I can raise a huge ruckus on national media, start my own political party, and get international organizations to harass the government. The sheer entertainment of watching the result may be worth all that trouble. Think, Mr Bean meets Martin Luther King.
Nox. Great game. Old, but it's so smooth you wouldn't think it was a 2D game. Very sleek graphics, simple but effective combat and spell system, and replayable from three different viewpoints. I've been spending too much time on it, but that's mainly because I have to return the CD soon. Meh.
Four more minutes, and six months it will be. To see it go beyond, that one I cannot guess. Soon Enough I'll find out what the other party thinks, and we will broker some sort of agreement. I hope it isn't too costly, or the other party to frustrated with me. But I guess I can only find out the hard way. Pray for me.
Meh.
According to Google Adsense, at least from what the ads say, I'm suffering from low self esteem. Fuck weh! If there's anyone more arrogant than me I challenge you to come out! I tell you ar, no one is more arrogant than me, okay? No one, and I mean, NO ONE, is more arrogant than me! Especially for someone so unqualified to boast! Bah! I'm arrogant, so deal with it!
Wah liaoz, don't know whether to be sad, or what. Everyone else has more readers than me. What the fuck weh! Maybe it's because I alienate them. Where got? I didn't make you all aliens what! Where got I go paint you people green and stick little radio antennae on your head? If you look like that, I definitely didn't do to you, okay? Go call your Astro guy to fix.
Bah. I suck at that style of writing. I just wasn't what I used to be, and it's extremely depressing.
In all seriousness, I think it's probably finally time to slip into obscurity. Mwahahaha. Maybe I should change this blog's URL, and not tell anyone! Haha.
Seriously, if no one cares, I should shut this one down. It's stopped channeling my true feelings a long time ago. I have other avenues for that. Worried about popularity? Maybe. But for the things I care about, if no one else does, I might as well not bother.
How does an artiste go on creating if no one stops to look? If I'm only going to be appreciated after I die, then I rather die now. I have many enough works, but no one cares. So I die, maybe the people I give my stuff to will become rich? Not likely. I'm not famous.
And, nobody cares.
I think I screwed Chem. I think the days, short as they were, of me being good at almost everything is coming to an end. They barely lasted a year. Of course, this is returning to the original state. I think some things that I hold on to dearly, and find quite unique to my situation are dying. It's getting too tiring to be myself, what with all the pressure to conform with the normal ideas of who I should be. I find myself giving in, and again more actively resisting it, all at once, more often and more ferociously than ever.
I wrote an essay over how I would rather die than give up my ideal idea on life. Well, it seems that I am giving the ideal up, aren't I? And as far as I know, that's the same as dying. Who says you can't have your cake and eat it? I'm eaten, and yet I'm still here.
Tell me, how many of you out there would miss me if I disappeared one day? Why would you? If I can guess the upcoming responses, I'd say few enough. Precious few, but I'm a person of extremes. I want everything, or nothing. I don't like SOMETHING. Give me liberty, AND give me death. Not either. Both. Got that?
In case you're wondering, yes, the contest is still going on. It will end on Monday, 3.00 pm, Malaysian time. The prize will have to be claimed before the 25th of December, and you will have to claim it in person. Of course, WHEN you can do that is subject to my whim and fancy, but of course, you still will get it.
Life is too short. And too long.
Meh.
This one, not exactly a survey, but more like a personal response thing.
There are rules for this one. Rephrase each of the following statements in the most creative way possible. The trick is not to make it a blatantly obvious statement, that people would immediately recognize for it's meaning. Like for example:
I'm still a virgin.
My warranty is still valid.
Understood? Only the brainiest will win. And the winner, which I will decide, may have a Coffee Bean drink on me. So there's something you might like to try for.
~I'm not wearing underwear.
~In my free time, I mostly masturbate.
~I'm a camwhore.
~That ****** is such a bitch.
~I like reading pornographically inclined pieces of writing.
~I'm still a virgin.
Ready, get set, go!
Out.
You'd probably noticed the Google ads at the side now. They're not really to make money, more like to see what Google thinks of my posts. You will notice that the ads change when I post each time. That's cuz they're responding to the content on the page. Interesting logarithm they're using.
Anyways, although it's obvious that I'd like you to click on them so I can earn some money, it's really not that important. Take it as a source of amusement. It's quite funny.
I've been formulating my idea of a kinky fantasy come true. And now it's all settled in my head. Would you like to see? Well, too bad anyways.
I want something with chocolate. Not just any cheapo chocolate. Expensive, rich chocolate. German dark chocolate base, with a blend of warm and smooth rich Belgian milk chocolate. Ever heard of body paint? Use the chocolate like thus. And consider tiny bits of brownies as the brushes that the paint will be patterned with. And there must be leather and/or rope. Ah. Kinkiness.
It seems that the depression passed quickly, no? Well, I have too short an attention span to do most things. Too many suicide attempts ended because I found something else to be interested in. If I ever rule the world, it will be a bloody disconnected place.
It's almost time for a survey, no? Hmm, must think up something totally custom this time. Niceness...
Out.
"Voted the Most Likely to Find A Potato Resembling Himself?"
- Dogbert, to Dilbert, while looking at Dilbert's Old Yearbook.
I can't stand this house anymore. I really can't. Between all the time limits and all the annoying siblings, I can't take this anymore. I'm THIS close to killing someone, literally. And believe me, I'm not above murder.
I want to leave this house. I want to stay where it's just me, and me alone. I've always been a loner, and maybe that's the way I should be. Why I ever became a half of a whole, it's beyond me. I've yet to cause any improvement in her. I've yet to learn anything from it. It's hardly been beneficial to either party, as she would attest to.
My life is not worth living anymore. It's lost all purpose, and the fun is being sucked out of it. Right now, it looks like the only reason to live is to earn money so you can pay back your parents (with interest). Then, it's to reproduce, and start this whole pointless cycle again.
You know, when they say people who commit suicide are crazy? Well, think about it. Are they really? Are they so deluded by depression that they can't see the truth? I prefer to think they're so drowned in depression (or something) that they are enlightened. At least, logistically, they got it right. Less people means less burden. And as I know it, I'm a burden to everyone. Not that I care about half the people I burden, but it's that few that matter.
Of course, I'm not likely to kill myself. Like mentioned before, insurance companies don't pay out for suicides. Also, I still need to pay back all the money my parents spent on me, dollar for dollar at least. And then, I don't want to take a chance that suicides all end up in hell, cuz I heard it's hot there, and I'm more like an ice person.
People don't take me seriously anymore. They think I talk for talking's sake. Maybe it's time I do what I always said I'd do. I'll have to smack my brother across the face just to prove my point that I WILL do it. The same goes for my stupid sister. They think I'm just talking. Let's see what they'll do when I do it. Then, since people think I'm making a big joke about wanting to die, I'll just get myself into potentially precarious situations. Mwahaha.
It's quite sad to be me. People everywhere try to play the emotional blackmail game. And I'm fucking tired of it. I'm sick of it. It's not that it really matters if you do, but it's so tiring having to just shut up to avoid it escalating. Maybe, it's time for another drastic transformation. To break the walls holding back my patience, that's the only way to go. I'm tired of having the semblance of the old me keep me this way.
I imagine I'd live a better life the what I want to be had I done what I now know I should have. And in all honesty, I can pretty much wish that there are no things as souls, but I believe there are. Which is morbidly depressing. If God would grant me one thing, it would have to be that I never existed. Or if that couldn't be, to undo me. Every bit. Scatter my essence to the wind, let the soul dissipate. I know Heaven holds no place for one such as me. How could it ever?
I lived through a few things that should have killed me. I'd always been stubborn, and that probably extended to my grip on life. Maybe, for just those few times, I should have just let go. It would have made life infinitely simpler for everyone. I would have been quickly forgotten, which is still how I would have had it. How I wish that Mom never decided to get me to the hospital on my 14th birthday. How I wish that I had less of an immune system. How I wish I had just died then. But it's too late to change that.
When my eyes burn, it's usually a sign of severe anger, or remorse. I think, now, it's both. Why do I have to be so strong in ways that keep me alive, but so weak in ways that can make me what I want to be? Is it too much to ask to be ended? Is it?
How I wish I never met you. How I wish, I had said no. How I wish, that it was like nothing that it is right now. To say I regret it, I cannot lie. I do. I regret having to put you through the pain of a breakup, that will inevitably happen. I regret all the times I've hurt you. And even though you say that I have made you happier, is it worth the pain that's yet to come. I don't know.
Looking back, I can tell, it's not meant to be. The relationship, the life, the living. I don't think there was a plan for me to be. I used to think that, more as an explanation why He kept me alive when I should have died. Each time, it was escape by a hair. Now, it's not escape, it's avoiding. Avoiding what was planned. Maybe that's why it happened more than once. It's just me avoiding where I'm supposed to go.
Sacrifice, they say. Sacrifice what? I have nothing to give, unless you're a cannibal. But then I'd only give you a few extra pounds. Am I better as worm food? Probably. To see the ounce of worth, it's hard.
College would be better, had I not been so good at it. Were I more like PokX, it would have been easier. A daily struggle keeps your mind away from more painful truths. If I could not think, it would have been better. The fact is, I do.
To kill or be killed. I'd rather die, regardless. Death holds such morbid fascination. Does it hurt when you die? Is it a silent envelope? I cannot tell. I only wish that I could be forgotten. Or eternally recalled. Is that too much to ask?
I need a drink. A long, powerful, strong drink. And maybe rest. Or maybe I need to hurt myself so bad that it finally makes sense. I'll see what I can do.
Out.
