Creating the perfect hell

Something big is happening. I may die.

This weekend's pretty slack, save for a physics thing. Whatver. I feel sorta random so I guess this post's just gonna lead off with me rambling ans shambling on and on about stuff.

I hate worrying, and yet I hate knowing what's gonna happen. As in, if it's gonna be bad. It's a head on conflict which doesn't make any bloody sense. I'm a damn hardcore escapist. As in, escapism -- escapist. Whenever something huge is gonna come and kick my ass, my natural reaction is to pummel MCR into my ears and stick my head into a hole which the ostrich just vacated. Pretty gay, actually. As in, not facing up to anything. I need the crisis to catch up to me and scream in my face before I even decide to do a shit.

That's something seriously screwed about me.

Everything's so damn relative I can't even find absolute extremes in life anymore. That kid who uses 2ndhand textbooks is nothing compared to the farmer kid in Vietnam who is nothing compared to that child solider somewhere in the screwed world who is nothing to someone who's just plain dead. Or maybe that's untrue. Some people always talk about death as a relapse, something to let you break free of all the shit in your life. Simply coz you don't have a life anymore. It's also damn scary how quickly perspective can change. In the morning you're worrying about if there's gonna be enough time for you to copy that math assignment and 10 hours later you may be freaking over how many stitches you're gonna need.

It seems that happiness is a give and take thing. Whenever you get something really good in your life it'll obviously be time for something else to screw up. It's all a balance. But as this thought rolled about in my head I thought of the abovementioned child soldier. There isn't any balance for him? I think there is. It's just that our A1s are replaced by his extra piece of bread and our broken handphones are replaced by his friend dying. It's all in context. It's all relative.

Damn, all my thoughts are thrown together in this one big mess.

I'm currently no emo, strictly speaking. Coz I'm don't actually feel sad. I'm feeling that weird sort of thoughtful melancholy that rainy days induces.

I was just trawling through the self-centered, pointless, superficial blogs of so many RVians and thinking to myself about how shallow it all is. Then I realised that I'm slipping towards hypocrisy, coz my blog also tell people who don't care about things that don't matter. So I'm trying to write something more....mature? Deep? Thoughtful? ... Yea, thoughtful.

And the cool thing is that no one will actually read this coz only coincidental passersby comes here. I'm writing to ghosts.

Wear me like a locket around your throat

I'd weigh you down

I'd watch you choke