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Sometimes, I’d like to just grab all the carefree, unburdened souls in the world by the collar and stuff some pain, anguish, sorrow down their throats.

It’s one thing to be blissfully unaware. It’s another to be blatantly ignorant. There are people suffering out there for whatever reason EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF THE DAY, and all you’re concerned about is your own pathetic existence? You are ONE soul in a world of six billion, what exactly makes you special? It’s this concept of individuality, of  “I’m better than everyone else” that’s turning society into a heartless mass of selfish pigs. GROW UP. AND LEARN TO SYMPATHIZE.

I know what it’s like to be down-on-your-luck, and scorned by all those around you. This is why when I see a streetperson, I do not shirk away. I walk up to them and I empty my change purse into their cups.

My grandmother told me I had “too much heart” when I was younger. This may because I follow Buddhist principles at heart, or maybe I’m just reluctant to add more apathy to world that needs no more.


The reasons I may never survive a relationship:

I am well aware of the human capacity for evil, and for that reason, fundamentally distrustful and fearful of strangers.

I am rather easy to maim, being diminutive of stature and timid by nature. I have been hurt in the past, badly, by people whom I trusted my life with, destroying all my previous notions of morality.

This does not mean that I will not lash out when provoked. We are all animals; our primal instinct is to protect ourselves.

A few weeks ago, I had recurring dreams of throwing myself against a door, hearing footsteps draw closer and closer, feel the door fly open and scrambling for cover when there is none to be found……

Another dream — the night is cold, impenetrable, and so are the innumerable stars above. I walk onward with no destination, the air slashing open my bare skin. The tears running down my face are frozen before they hit the ground. I am screaming out into the dark but I don’t hear a sound, save for the howling of the wind.

If only they stayed dreams.

“His first wive was addicted to painkillers. One day she took too many and never woke up. His second wive treated her stepson like crap.”

Why, oh why do you always manage to find the trainwrecks? Or is it the other way around?

Is the first part supposed to make me feel sorry for this guy?

Well, screw you, it worked.


I am deathly afraid of being asked about my family. Especially the number of people in it. I always get so confused and end up saying something ridiculous when it’s really just two halves that will never be whole again.

The saddest part about the whole thing is as hard as I try to make it work, I know I’ll grow tired and disillusioned eventually and move away from them altogether.

One day, I’d like to feel safe and whole again. Watch a movie like Manic or read a book like The Awakening without perceiving ghosts everywhere.

Smile like I mean it.

One day.

February 2011
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