I've been on this page for almost an hour now, and I've been thinking about a shit load of stuff, like why I don't rant when I really need to, and a whole lot of other disgusting, intriguing stuff that I have no idea why I think about them.
I have come to a extremely sad conclusion as of, maybe a whole ten maybe twenty years of my life, that no one knows my favorite color. It became apparent to me when someone asked me if I knew someone else's favorite color. I can just break into the conclusion that no one bothers what color I actually like. My favorite color's actually red, wait, I'm actually not sure about that. WOW, while writing this, Teri actually guessed it. She says its gut feeling.
Which is regrettably so, cause' I think that fat ugly stupid not nice people are creatures or beings that no one cares about, no one misses, and no one takes heed of. But where are your true friends when you need them? I always told myself that friends are the ones that tell you when you're wrong, fat, ugly and stupid at the same time, I hardly see them down here.
My efforts to create a unified class succeeded, but only for a little while, before everything broke down, back to square one. Someone told me that FYP breaks friendships, now I realized that that may actually be true. Counting with my fingers, there's already over five which situations that I already know, much less those that have reached my ears.
I played the role of the asshole in school, when I really wanted to be a soothsayer. Ironically, no one takes my words seriously anyway, anymore.
Would it have been better if I didn't quite DB in year one?
Would it have been better if I devoted my personal life to music?
Would it have been better if I hadn't dated her?
Would it have been better if I didn't kiss her that day?
It kills me, especially the last one, when I think about it. Its stupid to think back, I know, but whats point when you can't see the future? You might as well walk with your back facing the front, coz' you will always be that way. Once bitten, its not only the twice that's shy, its the thrice, quadrice,quince, always, that you stay away from it.
But what if its something you need? What if in the dire situation you really have no other choice? Can you pick it up in the same way it bit you?
You're the thing that bit me, my poison, my one true and only love right now.
The species that don't adapt is doomed to die.