So, I've decided to be happy

I'm tired, I wish everything ends quickly.

I'm tired, I just wanted give an F to every face I met on board.

I used to think I was smart, now I think I was never smart.

I'm tired. I'm tired, God.

I'm tired of asking, begging, blaming, accusing You at things happened.

While, You might be just a non-existent mere being.

I'm tired.

I'm fuckin tired.

I'm seriously fuckin tired.

  

Dear Geeky, you're such a bastard

I had a dream.

You were there.

We're in your city, your place, in a continent far, far away from our homecountry.

Yet, somehow we took a cab from your place to my place.

No, the cab driver didn't mind.

No, he didn't even look at us with demeaning look.

In fact, he never popped his head out of the window.

So much for a dream logic.

We had a talk. You and I. Which started way before we took a cab.

About your job, about my job, about your plan, about my plan, about your stuffs, about my stuffs, about your music, about my dance.

About your brother, about my father, about you, about me.

About us.

By then, we were already in the cab. Talking about us. US. You and I.

You finished talking, and started kissing my thumb.

"You have a girlfriend", I thought you were about to stop
"Yeah, she's pretty, but I'm just a normal guy", then you continued, kissing, sucking, playing with my hand.

Even in my dream you're such a bastard.

So, I slapped you, pushed you to the corner of the seat, and left the cab.

I cried afterwards, in dream and after I woke up,

for having my dignity, my faith towards myself , and my consciousness, restored.

I hope this is the end.

You do stuffs because you have to and not because you love to. Then people told you off. Even the minor, smallest thing could lead into a major depression. 'It's you against the world', but actually it is you against yourself. The biggest war in the world. Good luck, farewell, and Gosdspeed.

Moustache Rules

doodles

I think... I need to practice

Why I made this blog

I had a talk. A pep talk with Vida.

You know her.

The same girl who consistently asked me to get the hell out from this crappy job (I'm not kidding, 'crappy' is literally what she was saying)

The topic was always the same. Coz I always asked the same question.

Dude, what am I good at?

and since we whatsapped, I can only imagined that she sighed there (or maybe she didn't, but hey this is my imagination ), texting things she's been repeating to myself from centuries ago.

You like drawing

You draw things, involuntarily, unconsciously, undeliberately*
You look happy when you're drawing

and again she emphasized that she's glad when I'm drawing because I look happy, not because the drawing's any good (HEY, they're not bad, damnit!)

You're good in simplifying things. You know stuffs. You know, stuffs other people need to google before they even knew they existed..

such as

..Dolphins like to gangbang**

And as usual, I dove in and thought. How long before I'm gonna forget all these, cry and ask the same old shit again.

"Dude, what I'm good at?"

I made this blog, Vida.

To remind me that I do need to get out from this crappy job. Not because it's crappy, but because I don't wanna die and have some people said things like

"She served coffee and tea from the trolley beautifully"





I don't care if it's any good. Damn my previous blogs. Damn all the readers.

*it's not a word yet, and by all means some people think it is unlikely to become one. But I like it. So I use it. Damn with your vocabulary, u grammar Nazis(including you, Vida)
**Again, I'm questioning. WHY DO U REMEMBER THE FACT THAT I MENTIONED THIS FACT BEFORE, VIDA?