Thursday, February 26, 2009


Well hi everybody since my birthday post i haven't been blogging about anything lately so yeap
What can i say exams have been a killer for me so far i mean i think i am going to fail my ADD MATHS serioulsy and don't talk about Physics lah well friends are cool and great some jsut get on you're nerves and don't give a shit about you and stuft like tht and some are just plain unhuman so yeap i knw it's preeety short but in a few weeks time i am gonna blog about camp !!! OMG i can't wait mannn serioulsy so yeap ALOT of people joined this and some unexpected ones to i guess hahaha well here's something i am gonna leave behind zim and i edited it hope you like :)

Everybody loves a fiction huh? Wrong. A fiction of impasse, unlikely stints of happiness and a bland dash of ecstasy. A fiction I live through on a daily basis, scourging from a container once filled with assorted beans, now empty because of the simple fact that I love food. would you like that? Definitely not.

I guess fantasies are more to my taste, but taste is obsolete. Fiction is what I live in. A television set with a non-extant remote control, a robot that has an off switch only in its blueprint (I swear).
But suicide isn’t painless anymore.
The analogies are endless, the flower that was overwatered, overrated, desperately blooming in the winter. Time is the heartless miser haunting over the miserable. Fiction.

Or maybe a more popular reference would be that I’m an over-commercialized film. Reasons why that makes me feel bad, is that the gross profit never goes to the extension of the tapes or the visual enhancement of my veneer. No, it goes the ever-deserving director with his last minute casting and weird adoration for handsome actors who gets paid for saying the silliest things.

Maybe if I was the actress? The vivacious, sharp-tongued wonder perhaps. Always witty, always….. something they don’t need. Am I at the wrong studio?

A fiction with no climax, no conclusion in the horizon, no scheduled award shows.
And the imaginary characters would die, and some would prevail, get married and possibly have children.

But I don’t know where I am in this fiction, not now, probably not in a long time.

Oh, but you see here’s the biggest problem.

This is no fiction.
It’s fact.