Thursday, December 1, 2005

Ooh, l'autorit is freaking me cherche!

i hate people who think they are musically inclined.
I know, I know, there are lots of musically inclined people but that is different from people who think they are.
Starting this day, i strip my life of everyday music. No wait, i can't do that. Maybe just a little.
To top it off, i'd greet people and tell them I hate music (of course they'll ask the very drastic WHHHHAY? or HAWW KAM?)
I know how much a sacrifice this is. But really..
Music doesn't seem to have a point nowadays.
Specially in this darned impoverished country stripped of its real mind and culture.
I feel so jealous listening to old people telling how they used to climb trees (aratelis, bayabas, etc..), avoiding Mangga trees which were home to fat hairy caterpillars. I feel covetous listeing to their stories of kite flying and top spinning. I am envious. Green-eyed, I ogle at the past, seeing how much technology, colonization, and the increasing intelligence of the human race have changed us. Back to what I was saying..

music is hokum, pointless, and insensible when people think they are so much into music. so much that it's unreal. so much that they even research on cool bands wherever, whenever and say that they know this band so well, they like this band so much, they like this music so, they love this music blah. The same sounds whizzing from the radio.
So I'm tired, I'm sleepy, and i'm jinxed.

I hate days like this.
Sometimes I shed a tear or two just because my mum erased two messages in my inbox.
Sometimes I just can't keep all my feelings anymore and I need an outlet.
They say I'm at risk of being highly suicidal.
And I don't take that as a compliment (like some people who think it's cool to cut your wrist and see the gush bleed, DAMN you infantile dummies, DAMN you, if you want to kill yourself, make a deep cut and not a shallow scrape or else you'll just hurt. Die you.)
Sometimes I have too much to keep that I pour out whenever I find an outlet.

I slash clothes, I spill red ink on the bedsheets. I tape boxes all around. I
throw hard things on glass. I scrape, cut and etch mirrors. I throw things in
the dump. I cut framed pictures using sharp objects. I cry at night under my
blankets and pillows, making sure of not making a sound, for someone might hear

So you know how hard it is to be so secretive?
I HAVE to be so perky during the day.
I HAVE to be so blythe and peppy.
and while i sleep i dream.
I am telling you, It is rare for me to find an outlet.
I can't even tell my friends about my problems.
I can't even tell my parents about my problems.
I am stressed-out right this very moment i am typing this.

Freaking Authority, I am not sure if you're reading this, but please do read this.
If you want, you can print it out. :'(
I just feel so reselamentable.

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