Call it Karma.

Basically, the drastic turn of events make me nauseous.

Annoying, for that matter as well. For whatever sick reason this is one thing I have to put up with due to the incessant stupidities that have occurred.

I've done things that I haven't been proud of, it's just fucking unfair that it would come all in one big smash.

Next time cannot be a next time if you just anticipate a next time. Fucktard.

Anyways, for the lighter side, I'm going on a vacation. Yippee. Whatever.

Cannot get over the fact that the hormones have gone berserk. Is it the hormones sans the pain in the ass? Or is it the pain in the ass sans the hormones?





PS:

Dear God, please grant me some sanity. I terribly need it. I don't want to be a Virginia Woolf for the longest time again, nor Percy Bysshe Shelley. (he wasn't sick, or so I think) Can I be like Mr. Albom or the Tin-Man instead? Or maybe Helen Keller, who didn't complain, or Nick Joaquin who wrote the hell of everything else.

I can't stand the tension anymore. :(

On Gargantuan Efforts To Fix "The Hair"

For whatever reason, some dumbass force drains the happiness in me. Is it being because I want to be the only girl in the world, the cherry-flavored candy-par-lolly, the girlfriend-par-miss-perfect, or the green-eyed monster?

Really dunno. Desperately seeking sanity.

I am constantly praying for peace of mind. Did my mother, at 25, have me and was still loca over my dad: thus the immense green-eyedness? Dammit. If only my mother knew that it wasn't anyone that my dad was crazy about, rather, something. Grose. Family Computer FTW.

Hmf, WTF.

For the meantime, I am trying to preoccupy myself with a lot of things to do. Funny, the only thing I wanted to fo over the weekends before this was sleep and go out with Marius. It has to have some variety. Crap.

I have to love myself a little more. My mother once told me that sometimes, it pays to complain, it pays to unreciprocate and be a bit selfish from time to time, and to be a human by erring. Well, I get the erring part: but being selfish? God, that's something I haven't tried doing for the past year.

Really, I should. *sighs*

Back to work.

And yes, I am the jealous friend. AS IN VERY.

Well, she started it.

I'm the one asking for the lunch-slash-teatime-slash-dinner date and I couldn't even get her to come out, come out wherever she is. Hmf.

BUSY, BUSY, BUSY. Has everybody been pressing ctrl 4 nowadays?

When all of a sudden I see an album with all those eenie-meenie-miney-moe lakads  with friends.

NEW Friends.

You couldve just told me that you didn't want my company anymore. BUSY. Hmf. Whatever.

On the brighter side, Miss Spooky has now befriended me. She sends tingles up my spine when there really shouldn't be any.

I'm just hoping that I reddening like a ripe tomato earlier didn't give anything away. Dammit, why does she have to be so hot?!

Oh god. Has the Spook taken the place of the Huggy Bear?

Channeling... Hmm... Channeling...

Bah, forget it. Couldn't think of anybody else to channel.

Call me weird but I now, all the more, look forward to going to work tonight. Heeheehee. :D

Only Girl In The World? Not.

Sometimes I feel so invisible.

And sometimes it is fun to be invisible. I mean it. Like for example, people look for replacements when at the same time you need to be a replacement and hide to save your seat. Haha. I so love it when that happens.

For the record I am now friends with it-who-shall-not-be-named. Hahaha. I am so happy. And I didn't really need to break a sweat to do so.

I really don't get the point where I am asked not to look down on myself, and when I start carrying my bangko I am being asked why I can be so conceited.

Sometimes in order to get what you want you have to take matters in your own hands. Gawd. For the selfless me, I am now selfish. Hmf. Stupid swapping.

I am hoping that I won't be given much of problems in the remaining months to come. I may be happy, but a little reciprocation will do. Sometimes people think that to reciprocate can also mean being a freak on a leash. Of course not.

Sometimes I start questioning my sanity. Channeling Virginia Woolf.

And I can write anything I want because this is all mine mine mine without a soul knowing what's going on.

And sometimes, that can be sad too. It's like screaming and nobody hears the pain in it, but the voice.

I'll park my cursor for now. Sometimes, talking to yourself can really make you hungry.