this seems like the diary of anne frank. just that i'm not dead, and i dont think i'm anywhere near it. and that's sad.

if you thought anne frank led such a sad life, let me tell you something. at least she had things to write to fill one or two hundred pages. be it killings, deaths and runnings and hidings, it beats being bored to the bone.

then again, maybe not. death seems scary. but its not. its the thought of losing everything we already have, everything we took time and effort to built, and the impossibilty of saying or doing anything after that certain time. the moment of death isnt, its what we make out before death of the time after death that's freakish.

did you catch that? if not, read it again. it wasnt the usual crap.


damnnnned.

i wanna find a job. i wanna ask my neighbour if she has a job to introduce, or if she wanna find a job together. but damn, its been 6years since we've talked. we were pri schoolers then, you know. innocent, cute, hilarious and silly times. so, to the point, i haven dared to ask.

it breaks the heart when i hear things like that. i should really know when to stop acting like a puss. close the book, damnit. end the god damn chapter. find a new book, you ass. find, end, close.

being nice sucks afterall. it's soooo unrewarding. either that this is spore, or am just unlucky. being nice is chickenshits.

the heart is the the most complex-ly stupid organ ever. it gives us life, but yet steals our very soul and shreds our mind. talk about being mindfucked. being heartfucked should be like a zillion times worse. thank scrappy coco there isnt such a thing.

oh. and and. i neve thought i'll ever like vivalavida, that overplayed song. i was actually sniding it at first, with the mv looking horribly disgusting [he looks like he thinks that he looks as if he can fly], and the song being, uh. idk any description atm. but out of an evil dl-ing spree i had last night, i zapped a copy of it. and goodlordgraciousmeloandbeholdhollymamacowandchickenandcaptainobvious, i played it once. then twice. then a third.

its now at the top of my playlist on repeat mode.


oh well. such a senseless post. blogs are such an ironical irony. you're supposed to crap your worst shit out here for your eyes truely only, and yet. its done via the only way things can never be confidential, the web. what the egg is going on in this nightmare.