How I enjoy such melodrama. It is what makes the world less of a perfect sphere.

If that deceiver can gain an audience with you, why not me?

Alas, I am reluctant. I am timid. Shy. Afraid to know.

How I wish I could turn dejavu-ishly violent.

Maybe I was happy knowing that I hated you, but I was just getting used to it. Better that than say talking and then turning the situation into another possible downer. Better than not hating you, blaming myself and getting myself down in the dumps despite having the grandest company in the world.

Besides, you helped inspire me to write angsty, happy-chord songs.

Nobody helped me. Of course I’m the bad guy. She says she listens, but hell that’s all she does. Like God, she knows all, but she does not meddle. Well boohoo, go on, cry me a red river.

I see where it’s going. Being in childish denial does help with self-preservation. Escape is not only easy, it’s the only way out, because fighting will lead to impending doom.

How I wish you were here, so I could just look at you and mouth off without saying anything. By just thinking it. As if that works. My friend preferred it that way.

I came out, done with the philosopher’s position, and I didn’t get to recite my little speech I devised to ease my conscience while easing myself.

You’d never know, but I know you’d never care.

For once, I want to get into an empty elevator and SCREAM, not to be rudely embarrassed by the dude on the next floor asking, “did you scream justnow?”

Maybe I’ll visit college again. It has 11 floors.

Flashback to yesterday, with a real sincere friend:

“I just need somebody to talk to. I won’t actually talk to you; I’ll just… say it in my head. It’s like somehow you’re listening.”
“But… I can’t! Sure, you can transmit on your psychic channel, but I can’t receive it.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just need someone that I feel comfortable with for this mental osmosis.”
“Does it repeat? I mean, do you say the same things to someone each time you tell him in your head?”
“I… don’t know.”

Some part of me wishes to understand. Some part of me doesn’t. Perhaps it’s like how you just wanna bawl your eyes out in a hug and not tell why.

And no, I haven’t heard any Britrock today. 🙂

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