For once, I'm sick of this life destined for me. Ever since I dropped off from college, life hasn't gone better. Instead, it took a worse turns every second I stand the urge to kill myself down. Maybe dying isn't as bad as everyone had pictured, heck, I should give it a try. Who cares??! Fuck, NOBODY!! Now my ma refused to talk to me, and my siblings are generally avoiding me, it gets fucking disturbing. Maybe they're trying to disowned me?? Oh, what the fuck, gave me more reasons to just pummeled every being I met down streets. Drowning myself in a fit of liquor sounded like a very damn good idea right now. Sue me, I should drive and record my last moment on tape and send it to dear Ma, like Stan vid. On second thought, she wouldn't care as to search for my corpse after, let it rot and eaten by live creature down sea cuz being the problematic daughter of hers, whom lost her sanity (no doubt) just too much of a weight of mind and soul. She might planned it all out, y'know, driving me crazy by bending me to a degree I snapped into half, forcing me into college like a fat donkey to learn culture when she well knew I'm just wasting time and dad wages, period. Talk about family issue...
I'm just bound to relate with shit stuff like meeting with gayest being on earth, foster brother, who vowed to go through thick and thin of life with me with a word fake in the middle of it. With no actual purposes, we kept pretending like we cared for each other. How lovely.
The only thing that kept me with as much assurance as parents could, that this fucked up life of mine would eventually get better someday...believe or not, is a cancer sticks. Yes, cigarettes, a pack of it can keep my self-esteem in check for couple of hours. The only problem came from it is when I'm out of it, then I hafta get my ass out and spend another 5 dollar for another 20 beloved sticks. God bless Dunhill...
I'd write again if I get the chance. Ja~
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