UH-OH… THE SHITTY 15TH AGAIN

le 15 mai 2008

01:11 / Marikina, Philippines

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Okay, I barely noticed when the clock struck twelve then poof!, it’s already the 15th.

15. The shitty number, devil’s number. Whoever said 13 is the unlucky one must be kidding me big time.

On my way home, I was thinking a lot. Yep, more than the usual thinking. I played songs in my head. Then I tried remembering numbers. Then I try not to remember them. This is weird, really weird even for me. Then I tried concentrating in Con Te Partiro:

Con te partiro, paesi che non ho mai

Venuto, vissuto con te, adesso si li vivro

I love Italian shit. It gives me this certain feeling of aristocracy. At least I won’t have to deal with common people with mediocre cerebral capacity and totally impaired in terms of language. Or am I just trying to justify things, how better off I am today?

Clearly, that is out of question, still look at me blabbing about what-not’s when in fact, I really want to throw china to the wall. No idea why. I just feel kind of raged.

Then I heard this song again:

All good things

I wish you

All good things

Come to an end

All good things

And I wish you well

No. The hell to this song. Yes, I’ve used the same song in my multiply blog to commemorate a certain event in my life. I had thought it was pivotal but it was just the tip of the iceberg. I could have let pass that first incident because the person in question has neurons, but for the second time, uh-uh, I allowed a total twerp. I’m not being bitter. I mean, I have given that person the biggest benefit of the doubt. But for what it’s worth?

Now look at me, still dissociated with my beloved world. And the fact that my toned is still like this indicates that it’s not YET time. Few more weeks. Or months. Or years.

I just can’t understand why am I always on the losing end? Am I physically challenged? Or let me answer that. I AM PHYSICALLY CHALLENGED. Add emotionally to that. I’ve got lots of fucking issues about myself to deal with. And unless I’m able to FULLY tackle all of them, I might be stuck here forever.

I’m not back in square one. Believe me. And it was very much attributed to my dissociation. Ignorance is bliss. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or… just ignorance is bliss, I like it more that way.

Now, I’m thinking if I should cry. Should I? Then behold the images of me being laughed at by people because I looked like a fool in front of the world, no. I AM just what’s left of me. Take it away from myself and no shitty person would give a fuck. I’m better off this way.

Like what I said weeks ago, the moment it started, it was bound to end. Same with ANYTHING that might happen to me in the future, or with any person, it would eventually fall apart.

I just hope I’m filthy rich than I can do whatever I want with my money. I can go on a shopping spree and buy whatever luxury stuff I can. BUT I’M NOT. Maybe that is one reason I might not be the best. He’s just being practical. What he’s gonna do with me? People like them seek status more than anything else, can’t blame them for they are challenged in whatever shitty aspect I could think of. Should I settle with that? Of course not, call it elitism but my pants would no longer drop for substandard people. What the hell is happening to me? Don’t really know. But I’ve noticed that from your lot, you people always remember when you need something. Call it modernd-day, bipedal-hominid parasitism.

Do I wish you well? I’m not totally sure. You know why? Because I was very open and honest about the shitty thing called my life but look what I got in return. I deserve better. I’m so sorry for the harsh things I’ve written here. Still…

… it can’t change the fact that I still love you.

But drift away, go far or even die. I don’t know if I’d care. I’ll never know until it’ll happen. So it means I don’t wish you well. Now, what should I do. Put things back to tabula rasa. Rewind things until October 6, after I bought this laptop and my cellphone, I shouldn’t have gone to that party and not have you coming up to me and did a small talk. Regrets? No idea. All I know is that I don’t fucking deserve this.

I need another Louis.

xoxo

Bry Dee