Another Tale Left in the Gutter

OMGSUKISHOISLYKACRACKBLANIMEOMGLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

FANSERVICE. ASJKHGDKSLJHLKDFHJFLDJHFLDJMFL

AN ALL BOY’S SCHOOL WITH ALL-MALE STAFF MEMBERS. WTF.

I entirely blame Karen for this.

I’m an ass, shoot me.

I don’t see why I have to go to the mosque with Dad when there’s no one
who’s going to stay in the house. And I am extremely paranoid that
someone will rob the house. Also, I don’t want to go out. It’s nearly
summer and it’s getting hotter. I would rather stay in the house than
to endure the heat outside. Another reason I don’t want to go is the
fact that I particularly dislike going to mosques and wearing a veil.
I’m not saying that I’m an atheist; I damn well believe in the Higher
Powers! My only problem is that my Dad doesn’t understand that. I
believe but I don’t want to go down to the mosque and pray. I mean,
isn’t religion not how many times you go to the church/mosque to pray
but on how much you still believe that there’s a greater force out
there, right above our heads?

And just now, Dad was saying how cold I am; how unfeeling and indifferent to the world and shit.

DAD, I DON’T WANT TO GO TO THE MOSQUE. I DON’T WANNA LISTEN TO THE IMAM LECTURING ABOUT STUFF. AND I DON’T HAVE A HEART OF ICE YET. I JUST WANNA STAY HOME. BECAUSE I BELIEVE IN GOD AND HE/SHE’S UP THERE WATCHING US.

Fuck. Why was I born in this first place again?

If you want me cold, fine. I’ll be colder when I’m older. Cold enough to practically not care about dying.

"Wanna listen to a story?"
There was a young man, sitting on the ground, in a dark gray trench coat. He had a mop of wavy chocolate-colored hair on his pretty head. He was pale, ghastly pale and his fingernails shone in the moonlight. He looked up expectantly at the man with the briefcase.
"The story’s free, y’know," he said. And he grins, pearly-white in the dark street.
The man with the briefcase coughs, covers his mouth with his other hand clenched into a fist. He looks back at the man in the trench coat and runs off.
"People," the man in the trench coat sighs. "I wonder why nobody wants to hear a story."
"I’ll listen."
There was a voice, a voice of youth and a voice of skateboards and school bells. The man in the trench coat looks up and sees a boy of sixteen, his bag slung to his shoulders and carrying a skateboard to his side.
The boy had green eyes and dirty blonde hair.
"How old are you?" asks the man in the trench coat.
"Seventeen," the boy replies. "You a hobo, mister?"
"’Mfraid not, m’boy. I’m something else. So you wanna listen to a story, eh?"
The boy shrugs his shoulders and sits besides the man. "My parents aren’t home yet," he says. "So I can still be outside."
The man chuckles and pats the boy’s head.
"A story it is then."

——————————

Can you believe that this was in my head during SSP1? LOL. Ma’m Campado’s quite a muse then. XD

AW-RIGHTY THEN.

Tomorrow: Convince Ma’m Gen that I want to drop AH2

Also, decide:
Whether to go to NDDU (infotech, or AB English) or MSU (AB English) next sem.

Note:
- Once Mom arrives here in Davao, pre-order the last HP book and order Neil Gaiman’s Fragile Things.
- Finish the "Leg" story….
- Decide whether to run an mp3 rotation site or not.

My dad is such an arse. Then again, most of our own parents are a real pain in the arse. Right, so here’s the thing.

I bought Y Tu Mama Tambien on Saturday. Dad saw the opening and was like, “WTHeck, THAT’S PORN”. Eeew. How close-minded can you get? I, like, read something much WORSE than that shit and my imagination’s really GOOD ’cause it scares me. It scares me a WHOLE LOT.

So, instead, we watched Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Marvin is such a depressed darling.

I miss reading BLEACH, but the plot’s getting more complicated and stuff. O___O

You know you’ve been purely on crack when the following things happen on your birthday:

1. You and your friends watch Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Y Tu Mama Tambien and have too much giggle fits.
2. Your male friend is playing DOTA and you’re helping him kill all his opponents.
3. You’re typing an entry on your blog and your friends are actually sitting beside you.
4. You farted twice.
5. It takes 30 minutes to shit.
6. All of you are sleeping in the living room.
7. It’s 1 in the morning.
8. The lot of you aren’t sleepy….yet.

Well, shit. I hate being a drama queen. I hate being a drama queen. Then again, I can act like one.

In fact, I nearly did.

Oh wait, I did.

Eeek.

SINCE WHEN DID LIFE REVOLVE AROUND MISERY HUH? WHEN?

Bloody hell, this isn’t cheering me up.

Can anyone give me gay porn to read? Like, NC-17 porn? (I’m turning 17, bastards! And by next year, I’ll be legal. PERFECTLY FUCKING LEGAL TO VIEW PORN ON YOUTUBE. WHOOOO.)

You didn’t read that part, okay? Now, where’s my NC-17 gay porn?

Friendster has thing MUSIC-THINGY?
Now, how the hell can I use it to show how much I love Gackt? *cough*

Scratch that. Howdy y’all. I’m back and…still miserable. I cannot post anything coherent right now. My brain’s dead.

MIDTERMS NEXT WEEK AT SECOND LONG EXAM SA PHYSICS!

I WILL SURVIVE, I SWEAR!!!!!!!!!

I’m supposed to do some assignments within this week but I’m feeling lazy. Entirely too lazy.  Dammit. This is not good. I mean, I only got a week left….A week. Fuck.

I’m supposed to do a local history thingy for Phil. History, a critical approach on Laura Esquivel’s "Like Water for Chocolate" and diary entries in Japanese. *____________*

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I hate being in UP. I really do. But, dammit. I also blame my mom.

Pray for my soul, O dear minions. *bricked*

Lately, I’ve been listening to too much Gackt and watching too much Gackt. I should stop and concentrate on someone else….

HIKKI!!!! <3