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We weren't born with a name, we were given a name. A hedgehog doesn't have a name. It's just a nameless thing with a handful of flesh and skin and a beating heart. A hedgehog doesn't even know it doesn't have a name.
 
 
   
 
Monday, October 25, 2004
 
I'm not being morbid, but the truth is that anyday, anytime, anyhow, someone close to us that we love could have their life suddenly taken from them. Just like that. No warning, no preparation, no vague sign. Why do I cry so? Why do I let the littlest things affect me so emotionally?? Because I'm weak? Because I wear my heart on my sleeve? Because I'm just plain naturally emotional? Because I actually do sense some vague ephemeral quality to our fragile lives.

How does one try to keep a strong front when they're crumbling to bits inside? I admire people who can do that, who try to be strong for the people they love. But I just cant do it, no matter how hard I try. It's just a reflex mechanism in me to drop tears. And I hate it. I hate that I can't be strong when I need to be. It's not fair. Why should others be strong for me when I can't even be strong for them? It's a cruel world.

And to think all this was inspired but Sex and the City.

The truth? I like the sadness that infiltrates our everyday life. It's like some perverse form of masochism, but I actually do enjoy being in grief, a little. It just makes me seem... more human. I've never felt intense love, nor hatred, so the closest I can come to is grief. What did I do the last time I was genuinely touched? I cried. That sure says a lot, doesn't it?

I hate soppy fairy tale-ish movies. Why? Cuz I don't believe that's real. It's too perfect to exist, life just isn't that pretty. So I choose to indulge in arthouse films, least the contentment that they speak of is of a more accessible level, albeit more abstract(when they actually do speak of contentment, that is. They're usually morbid and depressing, which is a far more accurate depiction of life).

Do don't blame me for being morbid or over emotive, I try, I really do. Things just don't turn out as we would like them to.


On a different thought...

Oh to feel the sting of my hand across his cheek

'Very lucky meh? Getting a brand new car?'
'What's so exciting bout getting a new car?'
'No, 30grand isn't a lot of money what.'
'Forgetting is not good enough.'
'Yah but I have money what, so?'

How, how, HOW the fuck am I supposed to put up with such pompousness for another 6 months? I absolutely fucking hate our conversations; they're all so fucking shallow. It's all about what this friend said about how frivolously he spends his money and how he doesn't agree and thinks that that friend is more frivolous than him. Can't you see? It's NOT about money!!! When will you fucking grow up? You are one of the lucky few brats who NEVER had to worry about money and survival. The opportunity to worry doesn't even remotely arise. Yet you don't appreciate it. You treat it like your fucking birthright. When one door closes someone opens another for you, and you complain they didn't open the door quicker or that the doorway is dirty. Fuck your closemindedness and your superficial wants. When will he get over himself and see beyond his myopia?

I already forsee many quarrels to come over who's to use the car. So help me God, give me strength and tolerance to open his eyes.

 

 
   
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