ejaculate, and disperse

Every bone and every limb. Seriously, I feel like crying.

It's all going to go. It's all going to waste. Because without strength you cannot perservere. Fuck.

I hate this kind of heat. All you do is just sweat. My brain sweats.

I don't care if no one talks to me. Just let me stop screaming at you in my head. Just let me be a kid.

Sudden changes in changing. Some anger for what, I don't know. Maybe it's for not getting to do it my way. I don't know.

No old man to tell me how it goes. Or why it tastes better when it's warmer. And the reason why we think it's better when it's new or fresh. We just know.

Always an ounce of truth in every lie. Like a foundation of a sentence. A reason for an action. Unless it creates another truth much bigger than itself.

When you're incapable of doing it right, which also means you're unable to conform to their standards, can you say fuck 'em all?

I'm not celebrating, and I'm not celebrated.  

I'm a little confused about being ambivalent.

When the time comes to remember the forgotten, the past drives you to the future. Incessantly while never necessary.

I just realized today that it doesn't really matter. It's actually very normal, although never really encouraged nor encouraging. What do I do now?

I concede. I'm defeated and I'm finally giving up. I dare not say I've learnt my lesson as it pays to be wary of my learning capabilities -- lack thereof. Such a heartbreaking thing, this affair. Should I ever decide to venture into this again, I sincerely hope the memory of this failure will be there to remind me.

Hmm. Should I be worried? Of course I feel like listing everything. But there's never a right time. Never a right thing to do anyway. So shut it, right?

I feel like laughing but I find myself unbelievably incapable to do so. See there was a time when I had some self-control but it's slowly declining as time passes.

If there's one thing I wish I had less of, it would have to be, my own existence.

Haha. That's funny, sort of. 

It's always the same questions, and I'd always have to answer the same thing. One of the reasons I'm not particularly fond of daily conversations with people.

I was trained for this. I trained myself for this. None of this shit anymore.

"Cancerians are remarkably good at accumulating things; indeed, they can be unwilling to throw anything out, even relationships that have passed their use-by date."

I managed a chuckle reading this. Now, if only I could put that remarkable ability to accumulate things to good use, I might just be able to at least start packing before I go to bed. Sigh.

I will probably attend reunions. I will probably not enjoy them.

Writing isn't as helpful as it used to be and that doesn't help me.  

Since I never have anything to say. Anything to say out loud.

Cumbersome and not worth the trouble. I know what I am. I'm not content, and it's a fact I've known for a long, long time. My willingness to do nothing about it has nothing to do with you.

I would try to disprove but I think I'm sticking to my don't give a fuck motto.  

An invitation and an ambulance.

I'll be hungry any minute now.

I get a little evasive when it comes to people.

People in general. I don't see equality as a kind of liberation. Just merely a tool for exploitation.

I don't mind when people assume I have nothing good to say. Half the time it's true. The other half, I just can't be bothered.

The new year does nothing good for your soul, does it.