Fuck myself. Seriously.

What is exactly wrong is me? I never seem to do anything smart or right. Each time I try to pick myself up after I go through hell lot of shit, someone shoves a bucket right over my puny head. Even when I need help the most, circumstances force me out of any help available. How long, and how much more can I take before something really go wrong?

I haven't listened to happy love songs for nearly 2 years. Even if I did, it was because of song shuffling and radio DJs. In fact, I shun away from all of them. I'm already accustomed to sappy songs that make you emotional. And all the sappy lyrcis makes me think of him. And cry. Fuck. I hate to cry, but I can never control my tears. I'm scared to let Daddy see my tears; his heart would break. So I can only sob silently in my own haven and try to keep happy (and sane).

Pocky has gone blind and he's growing skinner by the day. His limbs are almost bone and his hair is falling. On the contrast, Pipo is as active as ever, always trying to bite some invisible enemy object. It's so depressing for me to see Pocky like this everday, I always cry silently and wish God would take away some pain (but not take him away from me please). These two fuzzy siblings draw me to return home each day, so I can appreciate what God has given to me. Minimal company when my heart is raining.

One of the swaroski crystals on my favourite Guess Ballroom watch has dropped off, and I haven't had any effort to walk to Raffles City to get the gem replaced. Rather, I don't see any heart in doing so because a perfect, luxury watch doesn't give me my love back. I lost all momentum in my life. Will the clock still be ticking for me? Yes, because time does not stop for anyone at all.

At the end of this post, I'm still swearing and cursing myself.