Thoughts before bedtime.

Finally, I feel like a real person. It’s not easy for me to say this as I’ve always have a deep seeded fear that I would die when I finally feel at peace with myself. It’s morbid but that happens when you read too many stories about dead people who seemed unusually happy before they bit the dusts. Am I feeling unusually happy…am I about to die a tragic death?


I can’t recall anything from the past 7 months, nothing, zilch. My brains must have systematically erased my memories. Travels…what travels? Just a facade, empty, meaningless.

I’m sick of people asking me why I left my previous job. Don’t they get it, I hated it! I don’t care about it. “Why didn’t you stick around for the money?????”, overused…just a bloody overused phrase. Well, fucktard, obviously I don’t care about the money. Does that answer your question?

Don’t misunderstand, I’m not saying I don’t care about money in general. It’s only because I’ve found out the blatant way that no amount of money in this world could make up for the loss of your youth, health and happiness. They’re just figures on your bank a/c. And money means more to me when I earned it using what my parents gave to me. And by that I mean my brains.

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