Today I proved the fact that you can walk a mile even if you forgot your inhaler in your classroom. You just have to start to loathe a close friend, then clear everything out of your mind. Well at least in my case that's exactly what happened a while ago.
This day is, actually, the most fortunate day of the week. It started out NOT fine (with finding out that we were only able to get 25% of our total population for our thesis, and my disturbing tubercolosis-level cough), but thanks to the 4-percentile margin of error and my Physics teacher's sweet 'yes' to the question that has been crawling around my neck ever since that day I did not pass the ACET(Miss, will you please make me a letter of appeal?), this day can actually be superb in more ways than one.
So yeah, right after last period, I hurried off out of the school to get home quickly. I found the bus, chit-chatted with Ira for quite some time, then figured out that my close friend would probably go down too to leave her things or something. And so, I got off the bus again with - get this - nothing in my mind. Nothing, as in blank, except for this kept hatred hidden in my pituitary glands.
I went down the slope near Brent International School, turned left..and that's probably when I stopped thinking about how much I hate my life right now. The next thing I knew, I was already in front of Tiendesitas, breathing very heavily and hailing 2-3 cabs per minute. I swear I was surprised myself when I saw this huge cemented wall beside me. And this big highway in front of me connecting Pasig and Quezon City. And a lot of cars. And gigantic Optimus Prime-like trucks.
Boy, was I drunk? Did that melon juice entered my adrenal glands again? Jesus.
When a taxi who was kind enough to stop and let me in came, I hurriedly went inside. I can feel my limbs giving up, and my heart exploding. It's like I want to cry so loud, because I cannot understand myself. The stupid driver kept looking at me, which is a bad thing, actually. I cannot let out my dramatic alter ego because of his dumb stares. So yeah, instead of thinking how the hell was I able to cover almost half of c-5 just by walking and how I find the driver ultimately disturbing, I thought of worst case scenarios instead:
-Be caught commuting by a nun
-Be caught commuting by a teacher
-Be caught commuting by a teacher I know
-Be caught commuting by The Boy
-Be caught commuting by that friend I'm trying so hard to run away from
-Be caught commuting by mom
-Be caught commuting by a friend of my mom
-Be caught commuting by a friend
-Be caught commuting by a classmate
-Be caught commuting by the school bus driver
I nervously laughed it off, actually. I mean, these are very unlikely to happen anyway. And when it does, I can always conceal myself using a paper and a rubber band; just tie the paper around with the rubber face, and voila! They won't really know me unless they have x-ray powers or something like that.
Finally, the cab dropped me off in that area where I would usually ride a tricycle that would take me home. I hastily went in, and just when the driver was starting his to move, I saw a very familiar vehicle heading towards the same direction as we were.
Oh my friggin' God.
It's the fucking school bus. How the hell were they able to catch up?
That whole moment where the bus is just beside the tricycle and I was hiding behind my nifty backpack turned out to be very excruciating. Nonetheless, it was one hell of an experience. My heart almost busted out because of excitement. It's like reading an R.L Stine book with that dumb Choose Your Adventure theme; you won't really have a damn idea what will happen next.
And you know what? All of that shit I went through made me realize that I can be so friggin' selfish and insensitive. I cannot defend my own side, because all of those are immaturely non-sequitur. I just made up reasons so as to get mad at somebody who's keeping me stressed for the past few weeks. I've been very disturbed lately and all I can do is let everyone know it.
Even you, bloggy.
So yeah. I'm sorry, but that's just how I am these days. If I'm disappointed, then I'm disappointed. I won't pretend anymore that I'm in favor of how things are going, because that'll be improper.
Showing posts with label emo moment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emo moment. Show all posts
Friday, February 01, 2008
Fat and Friends
What is not relatively new is the fact that I am, indeed, a fatass. My thighs are so huge its as big as a normal-sized lady's waistline, which is more or less 25. My arms are so enormous, they're as big as my brother's thighs (my brother is 50kg full of fat, thank you very much.). My belly's bigger than my breasts. I have a very fat pizza-like face.
Now you know how fat I am.
It sucks being fat. It really does. I mean, I can't even blurt out how gargantuan I am in public, for the fear that people might actually agree and thus consequently nod their heads in approval. One time when I was talking to this classmate who was complaining about how fat her thighs are (which is far from true. Her thighs are thin sticks, trust me.), I just suddenly blurted out "Well, uh, if they're actually big, then what exactly is the size of mine?". She looked at my thighs intently for quite a few seconds, then went "You don't hang out with boys anyway.". I told you people would agree.
It sucks being fat. I've never stared in front of mirror without thinking how big I truly am. I've never realized how fat I've gotten until mom had the doors of our cabinet replaced with sliding mirrors, much to my dismay. Everytime I would just stand there and fix my hair, my eyes, would always avert downwards, going to the direction of my thighs, going up to the sides to my arms, then back to my fugly face. When this would occur (which is like, incessantly), I would think of dieting, and/or skipping meals by throwing my wallet and other valuable stuffs out of the window so as to not spend them for food. I would think of exercising my butt off by paying my long-overdue gym bills and seriously get back at the treadmills and the machines. I would think of how morbidly obese I am, and wonder why I even have friends with this ever-gigantic body I'm in.
You know sometimes, I feel like I'm a lost soul in a wrong body(Jesus. It's about time.). It makes me wonder what would happen if I was trapped in a normal-sized body instead of this pig-like physique. I'll probably have a spanking social life. I'll probably have more clothes. I'll probably be better at Physics and Math. I've probably passed all the universities I've applied into. I'll probably be...divirginized?(WTF)
Oh hell no.
Maybe that's the brighter side of being fat. You can keep your virginity until someone who's eccentric enough to have sex with an ant will come.
But still, being fat just really fucking sucks.
---------------------
I've never loathed school this much.
Actually, it's not really the school per se which is bugging me, but the people in it.
You know, people you thought you will never hate because they seem to have entered your personal life; people called..friends.
Yet again, I still don't know what the hell is wrong with me. As you have probably read in my previous post, I wanted to ignore somebody who betrayed me in an obscure way. She talked me out of it (Well, not exactly. I told my plans to her after realizing how I was being all juvenile.), and for quite a few days, I kinda pretended that everything was definitely okay between us.
Shit happens.
From now on, I will try to not communicate with her in any other way. I guess I have to go on my own way, like that kid from High School Musical said (more like sang, but the song was so crappy I don't even want to mention it.).
I know I'm being superlatively puerile and insensitive and all, but I know I'm doing the right thing for myself for ONCE in my whole fucking life. She doesn't need me, I'm trying my best to not need her (which has been very hard for the past few high school years). That's basically it. Sketch a story out of it and voila! There you have a crappy and busted conflict that's been bugging me since last year.
Note: This is not a lesbo fantasy or whatsoever.
--------------------
Ache was talking about how excited she is to graduate and go to college already. Even my other classmates are fantasizing about our next major step for our education, which is college life. Well, I can't help but feel the same way. I mean duh. A day wouldn't pass by without somebody asking where you'll go and study after graduation. Not that its annoying, but..oh well, it IS getting kinda annoying. If you're in my case (you only passed two universities; one is your fall-back school, one is some school you'll be using to get into somewhere you weren't able to get into, like heaven, or UP.)
I am very much excited myself too. Hello college! I don't have to wear a damn uniform anymore. I don't have to follow unbelievably authoritarian rules anymore. I don't have to stay in school for the whole damn day anymore.
I don't have to be that obese and push-over girl anymore. Oh, what a joy. Time to get back at them high school gee-dee-bees.
I sure can't wait.
Now you know how fat I am.
It sucks being fat. It really does. I mean, I can't even blurt out how gargantuan I am in public, for the fear that people might actually agree and thus consequently nod their heads in approval. One time when I was talking to this classmate who was complaining about how fat her thighs are (which is far from true. Her thighs are thin sticks, trust me.), I just suddenly blurted out "Well, uh, if they're actually big, then what exactly is the size of mine?". She looked at my thighs intently for quite a few seconds, then went "You don't hang out with boys anyway.". I told you people would agree.
It sucks being fat. I've never stared in front of mirror without thinking how big I truly am. I've never realized how fat I've gotten until mom had the doors of our cabinet replaced with sliding mirrors, much to my dismay. Everytime I would just stand there and fix my hair, my eyes, would always avert downwards, going to the direction of my thighs, going up to the sides to my arms, then back to my fugly face. When this would occur (which is like, incessantly), I would think of dieting, and/or skipping meals by throwing my wallet and other valuable stuffs out of the window so as to not spend them for food. I would think of exercising my butt off by paying my long-overdue gym bills and seriously get back at the treadmills and the machines. I would think of how morbidly obese I am, and wonder why I even have friends with this ever-gigantic body I'm in.
You know sometimes, I feel like I'm a lost soul in a wrong body(Jesus. It's about time.). It makes me wonder what would happen if I was trapped in a normal-sized body instead of this pig-like physique. I'll probably have a spanking social life. I'll probably have more clothes. I'll probably be better at Physics and Math. I've probably passed all the universities I've applied into. I'll probably be...divirginized?(WTF)
Oh hell no.
Maybe that's the brighter side of being fat. You can keep your virginity until someone who's eccentric enough to have sex with an ant will come.
But still, being fat just really fucking sucks.
---------------------
I've never loathed school this much.
Actually, it's not really the school per se which is bugging me, but the people in it.
You know, people you thought you will never hate because they seem to have entered your personal life; people called..friends.
Yet again, I still don't know what the hell is wrong with me. As you have probably read in my previous post, I wanted to ignore somebody who betrayed me in an obscure way. She talked me out of it (Well, not exactly. I told my plans to her after realizing how I was being all juvenile.), and for quite a few days, I kinda pretended that everything was definitely okay between us.
Shit happens.
From now on, I will try to not communicate with her in any other way. I guess I have to go on my own way, like that kid from High School Musical said (more like sang, but the song was so crappy I don't even want to mention it.).
I know I'm being superlatively puerile and insensitive and all, but I know I'm doing the right thing for myself for ONCE in my whole fucking life. She doesn't need me, I'm trying my best to not need her (which has been very hard for the past few high school years). That's basically it. Sketch a story out of it and voila! There you have a crappy and busted conflict that's been bugging me since last year.
Note: This is not a lesbo fantasy or whatsoever.
--------------------
Ache was talking about how excited she is to graduate and go to college already. Even my other classmates are fantasizing about our next major step for our education, which is college life. Well, I can't help but feel the same way. I mean duh. A day wouldn't pass by without somebody asking where you'll go and study after graduation. Not that its annoying, but..oh well, it IS getting kinda annoying. If you're in my case (you only passed two universities; one is your fall-back school, one is some school you'll be using to get into somewhere you weren't able to get into, like heaven, or UP.)
I am very much excited myself too. Hello college! I don't have to wear a damn uniform anymore. I don't have to follow unbelievably authoritarian rules anymore. I don't have to stay in school for the whole damn day anymore.
I don't have to be that obese and push-over girl anymore. Oh, what a joy. Time to get back at them high school gee-dee-bees.
I sure can't wait.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Indifference
Alright already, ok? I didn't go to the freakin' concert because the fair itself made me agoraphobic on the spot. Not only that, I hate seeing people I don't really want to see nowadays. It makes me so irritated to see them when I walk past school corridors, and yeah, I'll probably emerge into my inner Incredible Hulk when I see them more at the concert.
This is why no one should ever make a crucial chapter of any thesis by herself. Jesus. I made that chapter weeks ago already, and its deadly effect is still taking a serious toll on me. My schizophrenia have reached its peak, and its a wonder I can still talk here in my own ego, not the altered one. Nonetheless, people I know can't really tell the difference that staying up late to make yellow-colored graphs made. In fact, I think that nobody really cares for me these days. Not that I give a damn if they do, or anything. But I wish I have some confidant other than Charlene whom I've been bombarding with my 'recon' problems with some university.
Oh, alright then. I'll blab it here.
After having my first rejection from Ateneo, I was trying to shrug that heavy weight it brought to my shoulders every time someone would remind me how cool it is to study there. This has become so incessant ever since the fifth of January, primarily because people cannot, for the love of God, just shut up all about it. And with its repetitive fury against me, it consequently became more or less easy for me to just forget all about it. I mean, I for one can't give any apparent reason why I should file a so-called 'motion for reconsideration', so why would I? And besides, doing such takes some deliberate pride-eating. You people know very well that I have damn issues with my pride. It's my soul food.
Last week my mom had suddenly reminisced my bittersweet rejection from Ateneo, and thus forced me to beg the Director of the admissions department of the said school to reconsider my application. In times like these, I had nothing left to do but blurt out to my mom something like 'Why the hell would I do that?" or something so dramatic like "You just don't understand! I don't belong there!", complete with a walkout, of course.
And from that day forward, she is still insisting me to do so. I told her a week ago that I can get my Physics teacher to help me in my letter of appeal to shut her up about it because its been bothering me so much. Oh, and yeah, get this - she baked my Physics teacher a box of oatmeal bars. Luckily enough, I wasn't able to take the box to school because I had so many things with me last Thursday.
I don't really know what to do now.
-----------------
It's a bit unfair how some people can change a person, but you can't. You know that saying, 'You can't change a person'? Oh I so hate that. It's not really in the matter of ability or whatsoever, but probably in the matter of who can actually change people. You know, something like human rights or something.
Well, maybe that's the way things really go. I sure can't accept changes in a good way, let alone changes in people.
What I don't understand is why people would make promises in the first place, then go break them afterwards. Isn't that a bit stupid and hypocritic? It's like building a skyscraper and breaking it down 4 months after.
You shouldn't have made a damn promise in the beginning, you fucking hypocrite you.
-----------------------------
I wrote these in my planner weeks ago:
People who wish to just fly aren't psychotic. Sometimes, flying is the only solution one can think of to escape the perks of reality; burdens are under you, instead of being over you. That makes it a lot lighter, ain't it? And yeah, I so want to fly. And die. Oh God.
In reality, a person who's much more of a smartass is susceptible of acknowledging more of what he/she can't do, rather than those things that uses his/her brain cells. With this way, he/she will strive to be more with a good morale. See, if you can't acknowledge your zero-brain cells alter ego, you're just technically filled with pride and crap. And that sucks, obviously.
At the end of the day, the line that separates love and infatuation is non-existent, What simply matters is you're letting those butterflies fly in your stomach to your heart's content. Well, at least you're happy, right?
A letter to MYSELF
January 14, 2008
3:15 AM
Dear Lorainne,
God knows why you're still up in this early time of the day. You have two things to blame: yourself, and/or your groupmates. I know for sure that you'll choose your groupmates, but please. Stop being such a push-over already. For Christ's sake you weigh at least a ton right there, so stop acting so bullcrappy. Next time, learn how to tell people what they have to do. And yeah. Push 'em real hard, you fucking bouncer T-Pain aficionado you. And another thing, please get a goddamn life.
Love,
Oyen (your long-lost alter ego)
-----------------
I need to ignore some people.
This is why no one should ever make a crucial chapter of any thesis by herself. Jesus. I made that chapter weeks ago already, and its deadly effect is still taking a serious toll on me. My schizophrenia have reached its peak, and its a wonder I can still talk here in my own ego, not the altered one. Nonetheless, people I know can't really tell the difference that staying up late to make yellow-colored graphs made. In fact, I think that nobody really cares for me these days. Not that I give a damn if they do, or anything. But I wish I have some confidant other than Charlene whom I've been bombarding with my 'recon' problems with some university.
Oh, alright then. I'll blab it here.
After having my first rejection from Ateneo, I was trying to shrug that heavy weight it brought to my shoulders every time someone would remind me how cool it is to study there. This has become so incessant ever since the fifth of January, primarily because people cannot, for the love of God, just shut up all about it. And with its repetitive fury against me, it consequently became more or less easy for me to just forget all about it. I mean, I for one can't give any apparent reason why I should file a so-called 'motion for reconsideration', so why would I? And besides, doing such takes some deliberate pride-eating. You people know very well that I have damn issues with my pride. It's my soul food.
Last week my mom had suddenly reminisced my bittersweet rejection from Ateneo, and thus forced me to beg the Director of the admissions department of the said school to reconsider my application. In times like these, I had nothing left to do but blurt out to my mom something like 'Why the hell would I do that?" or something so dramatic like "You just don't understand! I don't belong there!", complete with a walkout, of course.
And from that day forward, she is still insisting me to do so. I told her a week ago that I can get my Physics teacher to help me in my letter of appeal to shut her up about it because its been bothering me so much. Oh, and yeah, get this - she baked my Physics teacher a box of oatmeal bars. Luckily enough, I wasn't able to take the box to school because I had so many things with me last Thursday.
I don't really know what to do now.
-----------------
It's a bit unfair how some people can change a person, but you can't. You know that saying, 'You can't change a person'? Oh I so hate that. It's not really in the matter of ability or whatsoever, but probably in the matter of who can actually change people. You know, something like human rights or something.
Well, maybe that's the way things really go. I sure can't accept changes in a good way, let alone changes in people.
What I don't understand is why people would make promises in the first place, then go break them afterwards. Isn't that a bit stupid and hypocritic? It's like building a skyscraper and breaking it down 4 months after.
You shouldn't have made a damn promise in the beginning, you fucking hypocrite you.
-----------------------------
I wrote these in my planner weeks ago:
People who wish to just fly aren't psychotic. Sometimes, flying is the only solution one can think of to escape the perks of reality; burdens are under you, instead of being over you. That makes it a lot lighter, ain't it? And yeah, I so want to fly. And die. Oh God.
In reality, a person who's much more of a smartass is susceptible of acknowledging more of what he/she can't do, rather than those things that uses his/her brain cells. With this way, he/she will strive to be more with a good morale. See, if you can't acknowledge your zero-brain cells alter ego, you're just technically filled with pride and crap. And that sucks, obviously.
At the end of the day, the line that separates love and infatuation is non-existent, What simply matters is you're letting those butterflies fly in your stomach to your heart's content. Well, at least you're happy, right?
A letter to MYSELF
January 14, 2008
3:15 AM
Dear Lorainne,
God knows why you're still up in this early time of the day. You have two things to blame: yourself, and/or your groupmates. I know for sure that you'll choose your groupmates, but please. Stop being such a push-over already. For Christ's sake you weigh at least a ton right there, so stop acting so bullcrappy. Next time, learn how to tell people what they have to do. And yeah. Push 'em real hard, you fucking bouncer T-Pain aficionado you. And another thing, please get a goddamn life.
Love,
Oyen (your long-lost alter ego)
-----------------
I need to ignore some people.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
No Emo Shit
Today I've realized that I am so f-ing tired of things I am practically doing, if not everything. The stupid Talentfest sure made reality smack right into my face; I'm no swimmer, and I'll never ever be. This happens to be true because of two pseudo-related things. I'm fat, for crying out loud. Physics would explain this in four words: more mass, more inertia. Or if simply put into English, it means that there is a direct relationship between my mass, and my speed. And another thing, I'm very prone to my own death when I'm in the pool. This is caused by my bronchial spasms that occur when I'm extremely nervous or tired, and/or people who throw stuffs at you when you're being a damn pig by swimming so slow (well, sort of. ).
If those things are still not enough to drag me out of the pool, then I must be insane.
I'm just so tired. I'm tired of logging in for my three email accounts, and hoping that there is a personal message from The Boy. I'm tired of pretending that everything's alright between me and my best friend. I'm tired of planning to diet, because none of those gets fulfilled anyway. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of getting mixed signals. I'm tired of my irritating classmate, Chelly Moseros. I'm tired of dreaming to be a smart person. I'm tired of doing our thesis by myself. I'm tired of thinking that I'll be that engineer I'm aspiring to be one day. I'm tired of swimming. I'm tired of listening to my bisexual-wannabe coach. I'm tired of pretending to be so interested in anything, at the very least. I'm tired of seeing my typographically-error-ed name in Pauliworld, that big time campus newspaper I was able to get into. I'm tired of hating that classmate who just intimidates me for her own fucking good.
I'm tired of blogging, because it's like having an imaginary friend or something. I talk and talk and talk and talk, but really, who am I even talking to in the very first place? My own soul is not even listening to my own thoughts anymore.
Sometimes, I decisively think of just quitting those shits I'm tired of. These things are not ideally important anyway. I mean, what's the point of holding on to something you're extremely suffering from? Unless you're a martyr, it's a given fact that you have to let go of things that wear the hell out of you.
If the fact that I've already committed 2 major offenses in school ever since the start of the classes a week ago is still not enough for you to know where my weariness can lead to, then you're heartless.
-------------------
If those things are still not enough to drag me out of the pool, then I must be insane.
I'm just so tired. I'm tired of logging in for my three email accounts, and hoping that there is a personal message from The Boy. I'm tired of pretending that everything's alright between me and my best friend. I'm tired of planning to diet, because none of those gets fulfilled anyway. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of getting mixed signals. I'm tired of my irritating classmate, Chelly Moseros. I'm tired of dreaming to be a smart person. I'm tired of doing our thesis by myself. I'm tired of thinking that I'll be that engineer I'm aspiring to be one day. I'm tired of swimming. I'm tired of listening to my bisexual-wannabe coach. I'm tired of pretending to be so interested in anything, at the very least. I'm tired of seeing my typographically-error-ed name in Pauliworld, that big time campus newspaper I was able to get into. I'm tired of hating that classmate who just intimidates me for her own fucking good.
I'm tired of blogging, because it's like having an imaginary friend or something. I talk and talk and talk and talk, but really, who am I even talking to in the very first place? My own soul is not even listening to my own thoughts anymore.
Sometimes, I decisively think of just quitting those shits I'm tired of. These things are not ideally important anyway. I mean, what's the point of holding on to something you're extremely suffering from? Unless you're a martyr, it's a given fact that you have to let go of things that wear the hell out of you.
If the fact that I've already committed 2 major offenses in school ever since the start of the classes a week ago is still not enough for you to know where my weariness can lead to, then you're heartless.
-------------------
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Spidey?
I have a life, and that life is filled with school problems, like the fact that we will have a quiz on momentum tomorrow (which of all topics I've advanced-studied in Physics, I don't really get the idea of this one at all.), and we have some swimming competition on Friday. But I don't quite get it why I'm blogging for two days in a row already, amidst my 'sort-of' busy schedule. I probably need to get another kind of life. Social, will work, actually.
Anyways, our English teacher was not around during fourth period. So, as always, we were given yet another cheesy seatwork that was concerned with that movie we had recently finished watching, which is Spiderman 2. We were to write a short paragraph consisting of 10-12 sentences, and four idiomatic expressions from some magazine, and yeah, it has to be about the movie, duh. I don't know what was wrong with me during fourth period, because I was hyperactive as hell. I kept belting out 80's hits (with dance), and God, were my seatmates annoyed or what. So there. I write good when I'm high with barbeque powder, probably, so here's the stupid paragraph I wrote for the seatwork.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm Spiderman. Well, not exactly. I feel a LOT like Spiderman. Like him, I only have one goal; to help my parents in providing my siblings their well-deserved fine education. Sure, Spiderman's goal is nowhere near mine, but if you come to think of it, we both want to help people. The villains are our last straw(in my case, it's not getting the right solution for stuffs). Our last ditch-efforts and last resorts for these annoyances that seriously got in our nerves are always systematic(although Mr. Spidey's flexibility can make me envy him to pieces, It's not MY fault I'm too fat to be injected with some spider saliva). And yeah, in the end, we would always have the last laugh. All of these similarities makes me ponder so much if I am Spiderman's fat twin or something. But then again, all of it boils down to the conclusion that when you have a good ambition to begin with, you WILL win in any step you take. But make sure it's good and systematic like ours, or else you will end up like that weird Dr, Octavius.
I know it sucks, but it has become so f-ing rare that I can think and write like this while I'm at school. Usually, my mind is always crammed with deadlines and friendship problems. But that was sure not that case today.
Anyways, I'm crossing my fingers for another day of extreme euphoria.
Oh, and by the way, we're going to move to a new 'mansion'(as my mom puts it into her own egotistical words) in March. Not that you need to know, or anything (well I told you I'm cocky.).
-------------------------
I just don't get myself sometimes.
I have issues and...
crap. I lost it.
Anyways, our English teacher was not around during fourth period. So, as always, we were given yet another cheesy seatwork that was concerned with that movie we had recently finished watching, which is Spiderman 2. We were to write a short paragraph consisting of 10-12 sentences, and four idiomatic expressions from some magazine, and yeah, it has to be about the movie, duh. I don't know what was wrong with me during fourth period, because I was hyperactive as hell. I kept belting out 80's hits (with dance), and God, were my seatmates annoyed or what. So there. I write good when I'm high with barbeque powder, probably, so here's the stupid paragraph I wrote for the seatwork.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm Spiderman. Well, not exactly. I feel a LOT like Spiderman. Like him, I only have one goal; to help my parents in providing my siblings their well-deserved fine education. Sure, Spiderman's goal is nowhere near mine, but if you come to think of it, we both want to help people. The villains are our last straw(in my case, it's not getting the right solution for stuffs). Our last ditch-efforts and last resorts for these annoyances that seriously got in our nerves are always systematic(although Mr. Spidey's flexibility can make me envy him to pieces, It's not MY fault I'm too fat to be injected with some spider saliva). And yeah, in the end, we would always have the last laugh. All of these similarities makes me ponder so much if I am Spiderman's fat twin or something. But then again, all of it boils down to the conclusion that when you have a good ambition to begin with, you WILL win in any step you take. But make sure it's good and systematic like ours, or else you will end up like that weird Dr, Octavius.
I know it sucks, but it has become so f-ing rare that I can think and write like this while I'm at school. Usually, my mind is always crammed with deadlines and friendship problems. But that was sure not that case today.
Anyways, I'm crossing my fingers for another day of extreme euphoria.
Oh, and by the way, we're going to move to a new 'mansion'(as my mom puts it into her own egotistical words) in March. Not that you need to know, or anything (well I told you I'm cocky.).
-------------------------
I just don't get myself sometimes.
I have issues and...
crap. I lost it.
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