My Dreams, They’ve Got To Kiss Because I Don’t Get Sleep, No..

If You Can’t Handle The Pressure, Well, Do Drugs..Duh

Life Lesson #111: Life is really complicated, because it’s Supposed to stay simple. You think too much and you’ll get it wrong. I’m starting to think that evolution was more of a glitch in the system, just like when Windows Vista was first released a shitload of stuff didn’t work while XP was just right. Maybe Evolution got stuck at the beta version, cuz you know, when they wanna shoot a commercial for perfection, they get a puma or something. There’s a minimal amount of thinking that’s allowed before things go bombastically wrong, it’s called instinct.

Life Lesson #112: Sometimes you can’t sleep because you don’t wanna hear what you’ve been shutting out all day, but you gotta snuggle up and brace yourself because your head is worse than your grandma, and you can’t quite tune the former out with the intervention of a headphone. However, sometimes it’s because you don’t want another day to start just yet. An Ellipsis is much easier to handle than a period tho.

Life Lesson #113: If you let someone in, be it your dad or your best friend or your favourite book character that you’ve materialized into existence by wearing out the pages to the book he lives in, I can guarantee you with all the might of statistics, past experiences and crappy sitcom scripts that something’s bound to go wrong. You just wait. They’ll leave, they’ll have a bad day and throw it all away, you’ll spill coffee on his “existence” or they would eventually forget why the hell they started caring in the first place…because it’s not how it’s supposed to be. Humane is the most overrated adjective after awesome, and the most theoretically misleading after…jelled.

Life Lesson #114: God I wish I was kidding.

Life Lesson #115: “Well, you definitely need something. Um, maybe a backbone. Or perhaps some testicles. At the very least, a pillow that you can carry around the hospital and cry your sad eyes out.” – Dr Cox, Scrubs.

Life Lesson #116: Nutella tastes better on brown toast. Yes, it’s a diet paradox and a flat-out fart in the face of every variation of Atkins’ you’ll go over when you’re not getting any shut-eye at 6 am.

Life Lesson #117: I. Will. Not. Get. New. Sweats. These are my lucky sweats. Get your soapy hands off of my lucky hoodie. Gawd.

Life Lesson #118: I'm sorry puppet but I will not be your new best friend overnight. In fact, I’m not interested in it any other night either. And you’re not even reading this. That’s why I’m telling you first thing you show any other signs of mushy mushy around me. Do I look like a fucking people person to you?

Life Lesson #119: You know, compromises aren’t that bad. Truces are a form of compromise between what the flame thrower feels like blowing and what he knows the rest of his ammunition can handle. Pain is a compromise, a medium between life for what it is and death as is. Social interaction is sometimes a compromise when you have absolutely nothing in common with the person you’re talking to except maybe the fact that you both walk on twos. But at the end of the day; so is a milkshake, which is the most beautiful compromise between milk and ice cream.

“I begged you to hear me there’s more than flesh and bones, let the dead bury their dead they will come out in droves, take the spade from  my hand and fill in the holes you’ve made. "

In Somnium.

I am dreaming. Of People.

It feels good.

W eh?

I’m re-doing the Big Chem Quiz tomorrow, and the Maths results haven’t come out yet. So you can imagine how I looked like studying Chemistry today with a luring Prologue of cold that I caught out of the AC that was hanging on its hinges in one of the centres because apparently the temperature grading system went down on the same day that I chose not to pack my jacket, positioned right in the middle of class at the back just the way I like it. It was almost as if I was airing a commercial for Red bull doing the dude who trudges face first into a tornado.

Oh and did I tell you that they lost my Maths paper because I apparently filled in the time wrong? Yup. (4+) hour difference. Apparently when you get that worried, your nervous system shuts down the clenching of fists and the time zone is set to default in GMT.

Aw man.. If I messed up the friggin info slip, how the hell could I have performed on the actual fucking test?

THAT’S WITH THE VIRTUAL PRESSURE! VIIIIIIIIIIIRTUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!

Yanhareswe7 w mnayyell..

XII

And you know what’s ironic? A baby was born the same night another’s baby died. Karma likes her debts settled.

And I'm On My Knees, And Your Faith In Shreds, It Seems.

Love is a Bandoneón playing in harmony with a Cello with a Piano in the background.

Personal Parabola.

I have a Maths exam in 2 hours. If you know me in person, you know for sure how much I love Maths, and how it’s a huge chunk of how I define who I am. The problem is that a couple of days ago we got the results to the big Chemistry exam and I got a really bad grade. I’m usually top of my class, so when I got that sheet with 10.5 out of 15 written on it, I think it’s understandable that I kept staring at it trying to reshape that zero into a 6 by sheer power of vision and infrared will. The next morning, when I was actually sober enough to flip the page with the grade to see what was actually off, Oh the irony. I got everything backwards. Which element is smaller; A or B? B is bigger. The correct answer is: A is smaller. So I practically got it right eh? Is that an apple or an orange? It’s not an orange.

Yup..

What the Fuck was I thinking?

Was I even thinking?

How could I not be thinking? I’m always thinking.

This can’t be happening.

But it did.

Well, that was the case to all of the stuff that I wrote. I wrote the exact opposite. They were right in sense. The exact opposite, every decrease was an increase and every increase was a decrease. Do I hear a shout for dyslexia?

No. Close enough, but no.

It’s a little something called Sanaweyya jitters.

You see, just as everybody who knows me knows my stance on maths, they also know how much of an egotistical maniac I am about stuff that I love. I have Maths today, my morale is down in the gutters and I don’t like it! I’m a snob. I want the snob back. I wanna know with every fibre of my being that I’m gonna go in that exam room today and ace the fuck out of it. Because I’m good at Maths, and I know it.

But I can’t say that anymore, what if that chem episode decides to pull off take two? I can’t let that happen. It doesn’t happen. It’s impossible.

Except that now I know it’s possible.

Which means it could happen.

Oh shit.

What’s worse, is that it’s a stupid evaluation Quiz. If that happens with the virtual pressure of the finals hovering, what do you think are the odds of that happening in the actual finals, with all of the curriculum involved? Which is around 5 or 6 times more than what we’ve already worked on? Huh?

Holy Shit.

O_o

I’ve been studying since 8 am, so that’s about 5-6 hours straight. What’s really getting on my nerves is that I’m hoping it goes well.

I don’t hope.

I can’t leave a space for hope.

Hope is for people who haven’t worked hard enough and are pulling on all the powers of the unseen since they fucked up the seen bit.

The usual Scenario would have been of me studying, for 5 hours straight which is a constant in this equation, except that I wouldn’t be jittering with mounds of crumpled paper bracketing my existence and leaving a trail to all of the places I used as a studying hole, which I kept changing every hour or so. I wouldn’t have two calculators, 7 books and 5 pens around. I wouldn’t have a blinding headache and I wouldn’t forget blinking until my eyes burnt.

No.

Maths is my thing. It’s not possible.

Or is it?

That’s the unsettling bit. I don’t like grey areas.

I’m good at the stuff that I know I’m good at. These can’t be variables. They’re not allowed to. It’s not possible.

It’s not. It can’t be.

Aw man..

If Anyone Promised To Fix You, They Lied.

“And High up above or down below, when you’re too in love to let it go, but if you never try you’ll never know. Just watch it work.”

Morning Fix 101

=/

Life Lesson #101: Talking to the person sitting next to you, whoever the hell that may be, is not the worst idea ever concocted. Today I had a sweet girl I met in chem class tell me that she tried to befriend me once but I froze her off. I had no recollection of the incident, but it must have been on one of those days I preferred the seat at the back to trade all the unfamiliar faces for somehow similar backs of heads.

Life Lesson #102: Normal people exist. They’re just laying low. Life Lesson #103: Apparently if you’re known as the one who debates with the teacher for a minimum of two or three times an hour, more backs of heads turn to faces that in turn dismiss the fact that they might not know your first name when they use your leg as a hand rest. You might wanna repress the “Do I even know you?” at the ones who know you even though you never noticed they existed. They tend to introduce themselves and then introduce you with you probably still gaping at the newly formulated face.

Life Lesson #104: If they stick out on the radar, more often than not it’s an air bubble in the preview screen. Or so you wish.

Life Lesson #105: Next to babies *egh* and dogs, pens are also great pickup props. She really liked my pen. No Pun Intended.

Life Lesson #106: You should be glad to know that everybody in the whole wide world has a picture of them in a really bad haircut with a lot of 2nd hand gloating potential that makes their head worthy of investigation by Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. I choose to believe it’s Karma’s way of subtly saying I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch. Some even make a Mohawk look posh. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. The relief. :)

Life Lesson #107: Biting your nails to the bone, not sleeping for two nights in a row, giving up verbal communication and spraining your ankle is not gonna bring them back. Leaving the house at 6:30 am to wander off to nowhere and not giving a fuck on whether you get kidnapped or raped or run over is not gonna bring them back.

Life Lesson #108: You’re an entity. Keep that in mind.

Life Lesson #109: Wake up calls aren’t calls that wake you up. Sometimes you don’t have their phone number and that’s what eventually keeps you up.

Life Lesson 110: “Did the devil make the world while god was sleeping? You’ll never get a wish from a bone”.

A Moment’s Hold.

Why would you wanna do that to everyone who’s ever loved you?

Please Kefaya.

Harum-scarum Madcap.

One of the best advice I’ve had when it comes to picking a career came from my dad, and it was along the lines of “If you already know what you love and are afraid to pick it, I can ensure you that nothing works in this godforsaken country so you might as well pick something you love and not get a job than to pick something you don’t because you thought it works and still not get a job. At least in the first case you’ll have something to do in the meantime”. You see, it doesn’t really just apply to career, but it kinda sucks when you pair that with being impulsive.

Besides the fact that it’s really draining and continuously draws you out of your comfort zone, you also can’t expect people to react the same way. So now instead of dealing with the one variable that is yourself, you have yet another unknown variable, that is people. And the annoying bit about telling people what you think/feel/believe or whatever it is you’re telling them about anything at all because you’re impulsive is that you no longer have control over that situation, now that they’re in the know. And you begin to wonder how easier it would have been had they not known in the first place, and you start calling yourself stupid for two hours instead of taking a nap because the hours of ‘do I or do I not’ you skip being impulsive are compensated in the ‘you’re-so-fucking-stupid-you-shoulda-kept-your-mouth-shut!’ hours. Yeh.

I think I trailed off there..

ANYWHO, point is, I’d be lying to you if I told you that I’d rather be that person who says ‘do I or do I not’ a thousand times in their heads before they do something, because jumping into things feels so good. And even though you might regret your stupidity now and cringing in your head about all the stuff you shouldn’t have said/done, on the long run, you’ll be looking back onto those with the relief that you had the guts to do it, and the live entertainment along with that package. Just get through the cringing for now.

Does anyone know how to do that though? Cuz I sorta need help in that department.

Impulsiveness has other pros too you know; you get the best memories, you know for sure that it’s definitely not in your head, you burn more calories fretting over it, you don’t evolve into a complete burn-out who cogitates the extra-pepperoni option on a friggin pizza, you always have the guts excuse to make you feel better if the period of compunction draws on to a hyphen, you probably feel so bad about it that you’re not gonna do it again, but you will, which provides excellent aforementioned compunction abbreviation, you have a roller coaster of a life, you ward off the boring people because you eventually scare the crap out of them, your brainwaves are arguably more relaxed with the absence of all the doubt, or more active with the over stimulation resulted from second-guessing, you have better reserve to draw on when you get bored since it’s something that renovates itself on a daily basis, you know for sure that you’ve brought down routine once and for all even though you never really knew how people had it without killing themselves, let alone chose it voluntarily.

You probably get the point by now..

Until that that, down there, is made possible:

I’d rather just punch the person in the face…

Blogging About Beoble.

My finger hurts. I should probably stop biting my nails. It hurts when I press it on something. Including Keyboards and Piano keys. I’m typing though.

So blogger’s block. Meh. Back to asking people what to blog about and I had two ‘Me’s. Considering that one of them is a cat, I’ll blog about the other Me.

Omar Abhar.

The dude who is humanly capable of liking Pink Floyd and Tarja Turunen at the same time. The one who has enough brain space to like silence without being paranoid about the talking in his head because he and I have a pact to share therapists in the near future. In love with his camera and hates the :)  emoticon. Voluntarily reads books about psychopolitics and is probably the only person on my contact list that I can talk to for long enough without having the impulse to off for good.

If only you’d get rid of the constipated/orgasmic smiley. Meh. You can’t have everything.

Available.

You know the dude who said that you’d better start with yourself at stuff? That dude must have tried really hard trying to get people to do stuff but people didn’t listen because those people were trying to get other people to do stuff, and they were so busy at it because those other people were trying to get more people to do stuff in turn, which wasn’t working at all. That chain reaction of trying to get people to do stuff doesn’t work because even though the ears look like two holes into your head, it’s doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re listening, or that You’re listening. It’s quite similar in idea and aspect to trying to drink from your nose. You see, on paper, it makes sense. The nasal opening and the oesophagus meet at some point. Its making sense doesn’t mean it works though. That’s one of the reasons I like Maths and hate people. Maths is so much better, and when the answer is infinity, you tend to know it from the beginning of the equation by working out its value. It’s a simple yes or no, you know?

I wanna grow up. So bad. A lot of things will be easier. A lot of stuff will be harder too, including me, which is what I want most of all. But you know, at the expense of having the stuff I have in mind easier, I wouldn’t mind having worse stuff to handle for that to work made harder. I wouldn’t mind that at all.

I have school tomorrow, and it’s a Saturday, which means I can play piano! The piano room will be available. Available. It’s always there though, but it’s not available all the time. You may like to play the piano, but how do you know if the piano likes to be played by you as much? You get over that, and then you’re grateful for the days it’s available. It’s sad, in a way, but you stop caring about that. Well, not stop caring, but actually stop caring about caring or not. Which in turn means you stop. Point is, tomorrow’s a Saturday. Focusing on its being a Saturday, focusing that the Saturday will always be there and accepting that there’s only one Saturday a week.

Available is a horrid concept though.

It's How You See The World.

Stupid I Have Been, Stupid I am, Stupid I will be.

It’s not until you’re in the other person’s shoes at another life or another time that you completely understand how heroic that asshole might have been, or how much of a trash bag the one flaunting the red cape turned out to be. You can’t stop how stupid you feel though. Oh how I hope to disappear. Once and for all. I can’t believe how stupid I was. How stupid I am. You just hope that when you’re in that other person’s shoes, you treat the you in that other one who’s yet to learn that lesson. Let them down, gently. Even if it takes a lot out of you. Just remember how stupid you once were. How stupid you’ll continue to be.

Oh god I was so stupid. How couldn’t I see? I’ve been so stupid..

Stupid stupid stupid.

  Gently.

Reliquerant

Life Lesson #90: When it gets hot, everybody ditches. Including the heat inducers. We’re all disintegrable. It’s about how long it takes before you change form. 

Life Lesson #91: You can’t sleep if you won’t stop being awake.

Life Lesson #92: Hope is vicious.

Life Lesson #93: People are monsters. But then again Frankenstein was a monster, it took a lighted match to make him cry like a baby. Babies are monsters. It’s a paradox.

Life Lesson #94: Non volo intelligere.

Life Lesson #95: “It’s ok. You don’t have to. It’s not wrong to not want it. It’s not wrong. But it’s beautiful..” –Dad.

Life Lesson #96: You’ll see yourself for who you really are when you falter with a yes that trespasses it for the  sake of another. You’ll never be the same again. You’ll move on from hating it to living with it. You’re not proud of it, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re cruel, you’re selfish. You know it. You’re scared too. You choose the safe no. You don’t want to get your hands dirty. I dare you to fall asleep again. If you do, making a manual would balance out the karma bite.

Life Lesson #97: “You’re safe within.”

Life Lesson #98: No, it’s not ok.

Life Lesson #99: Why?

Life Lesson #100: Who are you asking? There’s no one out there.

P.S. Dragon Flies Have A Life-span of 24 Hours.

Reliquerant. Reliquit te. Te Reliquit.

And you will not get it. You’ll never get it.

                                                           I think I need my tree.

100th Post

Oh, and this is the 100th post, in case you missed the title. What so special about that anyway, it’s just another number. Anywho, If you don’t count in my overflowing drafts folder, it means that I decided to turn to cyber space and not fellow humans for vent-outs 100 times. Hooray! Your incompetency as a head with two holes has been proved a hundred times over. Revel in your mediocrity.

Intracranial Censorship.

I was probed by a friend who’s seen this blog to look into Freud’s interpretation of dreams. Well, I so wish I hadn’t, because well. Yeah. Haha. According to Freud, access to my subconscious mind has been blocked by my conscious one for censorship…to avoid trauma. Apparently, in plain English, if these two guys meet in an alley or something, they’ll beat the hell out of each other, repressed stuff that I couldn’t handle shooting out of every hole and bruise and I’ll eventually go nuts by TMI-effect. It’s quite pathetic, don’t you think? Mental screening has been prohibited because it’s PG-rated and I’m inappropriate audience. Ironically enough, now that I read into that, I should worry about those three days that I actually dreamt, because it means that my defences are breaking down and things, that might contribute to a full-blown phase of ultra nuttiness, are falling through.

But I wannnaaaaaaaaaaah dream...

                                                                                  ..Meh.

                                                                                      I can’t anyway.

But I Know.

Life Lesson #90: You know that sappy bumper sticker with “Everyone’s fighting their own secret battle” written on it? It’s not sappy. Well, yeah it is, but you know what I mean. No you don’t.

Life Lesson #91: Sometimes, you’re meant to be out of it. So you’re there when others are in it. That’s as far as “meant to be/have” goes as much as I’m concerned. Other than that, nothing happens for  a reason.

Life Lesson #92: Dina’s Farm Products are really good. The milk is wow, that cow knows what she’s doing.

Life Lesson #93: Good still exists, it’s just  anonymous, outnumbered and ultimately misunderstood. Sometimes it’s that little green bug that wouldn’t be shooed that stalls you long enough to see it coming. Sometimes it’s that guy on TV who wouldn’t stop talking about irrelevant crap that even he doesn’t give a flying fuck about so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the workings of your head for just two more hours. Sometimes it’s that really annoying song stuck in your head that gets you through the night. You never see it.

Life Lesson #94: I’m not sure what the hell that author from “The Secret” was thinking about introducing her theory of thinking stuff into existence because if you kid yourself long enough to actually lie to it and believe it, the universe will push it in your way to balance out the fucked signals you sent out into space and keep the Feng Shui of everyday life in alignment. So, all you do is sit around on your ass all day and keep saying “I have a Ferrari, I smell the leather seat, I see the shiny red paint, I can taste the first odour of fuel precipitating on the insides of my nose" and you wake up the next day to find that mommy earth PMSed all night to handle your tantrum and now there’s a red Ferrari on your doorstep. Why? Because you brought it around with your power of belief using the loophole of the ultimate and irrevocably automated balance of nature. I have never seen so much bullshit woven so intricately and so exorbitantly mass-marketed in my entire 17 years of pathetic existence. This is beyond retarded. It’s way past religious false promises and political schedules. I can’t even find a word for it. She was on crack, fucked a publisher and the bullshit sold itself since everyone is looking for anyone to lead them, even if it’s a horoscope or a stupid fortune cookie slip, because they just can’t handle the brain-frying process of ‘Thinking’. Or worse, ‘Acting’. She actually used weight loss as one of the examples. Can you fucking believe it? Why yes, I understand you’d want to. Just lay back and wish the fat away. Yeh, good luck with that. Luck is one of the forces anyway.

Life Lesson #95: Symbolic angles of Footage are pure surrealist art. You never see that either.

Life Lesson #96: That kid breaking my 3x3 Rubik’s cube the other day made me realise that I never started on my 5x5 one, not because I wasn’t ready for it, but because I was afraid I would fall from my one side every 2 min average. A 4-year-old bugger was my equivalent of ninja comics’ perspective man. I still hate kids though.

Life Lesson #97: You’ll do what you think is right. It doesn’t mean it’s right though. It never is.

Life Lesson #98: Quoted Script – The Kite Runner.

“Before you sacrifice yourself for him, think about this, Hazara: Would he do the same for you? Have you ever wondered why he only plays with you when no one else is around? I said, "Why," Hazara! Because, to him, you're nothing but an ugly pet. Something he can play with when he's bored. Something he can kick when he's angry.

Amir agha and I are friends.

Friends? You fool. Enough of this. Give us the kite. Last chance. As you wish. Keep it. So it will always remind you of what I'm about to do to you.

Nothing is free.”

Life Lesson #99: Raisins are mortified grapes.

You Mess With My Rubik’s Cube, I Mess With Your Joints…

I hate kids. No seriously. I hate them.

Today school was boring, and I knew it was gonna be, like every other day, so I decided what the hell, I might as well be bored intentionally. So, aside from the fact that I talk to more people than I can keep track of in the course of the day , ones I know and don’t know, I packed in my Rubik’s cube and piano sheet I’m working on for those disappearing fits. I didn’t pack a book because I knew for sure that most of my school time is spent sleepless and caffeinated, so much that it would consume most of my calories just trying to keep the lines from jumbling up when I look at them. Not to mention the fact that most of the people there have never seen an extracurricular book in their entire life and would either call me snobby for it or they’d finger it beyond recognition, then call me snobby for it. Since I save my sarcastic bite-backs for special cases in which the person in front me ending up in tears doesn’t mean squat, I settled for spending the day without picking on anyone’s complexes. I spent most of Arabic and break-time working at the Rubik’s cube, autistically-complacent and just, well, walking around with a couple of people that I changed every once in a while. I checked on the piano room and found out that it will be free on Saturdays from now on, then I did my rounds. That’s when I talk to people out of the blue about random stuff but not stay long enough for any of the stuff to be serious. One of the groups I hung out with had a kid that had wandered off from nursery. She took my Rubik’s cube, which was in the process of being fingered by people who give up on it after an average of 3 minutes, denouncing it as either ‘too smart’ for them or ‘too stupid’ for them, according to their self-esteem prop. The kid played with it for 2 seconds, then she threw it with all her might, at which point everybody looked at me then at the Rubik’s cube, which was inevitably broken. And that’s why I hate kids. Why do people like kids? They’re stupid, clingy, icky, selfish and they touch a lot. They’re like puppies, except that puppies are cute. I so wished I could swap roles, so that the Rubik’s cube re-incarnates into its hulk and defends its microcosm by breaking the kid into tiny little pieces. Slowly.

Don’t worry people, I’ll fix the Rubik’s cube.

The Kid Should Die.                                                                                   …Die.

Anywho, I stopped dreaming, again. And eating. I forgot to eat yesterday and I’m not hungry today. My body doesn’t seem to mind though, so I’m cool. As long as my head doesn’t register anything as missing. Those three days I dreamt were nice. I should have known it’s bound to go away though, I actually wanted it to go on. Meh.

“Pretend he just made excuses that were so paper-thin, they could blow away with the wind. Marshall you’re never gonna make it, makes no sense to play the game there ain’t no way that you’ll win..”

I could really use a wish right now. That blue turns to beige again.

Show Me All The Things I Shouldn’t Know.

Why are all Metallica songs sung in “he”? Or for ‘him’?

Despite the fact that I think they’re pretty emo to be macho with no apparent reason for their ‘suffering’ and ‘pain’ and ‘whipping’ and ‘torture’ that caused ‘him’ to lose the ‘will to live’ and made him ‘learn their rules’ or whatever. Why he? The all macho Metallica’s lead singer could not possibly by gay, or can he? According to a good friend, “james hetfeild slept with hookers more than abo treeka ra2as nas”. But then again, why does he keep singing in he? He can’t have sensibly hated all the hookers can he? There are two logical conclusions as to why. A) He’s a narcissistic chauvinist prick. B) He’s gay. According to the amount of senseless unreasonable whining in their songs, alternated by self-advertising of how much of a hero he is that all people can come to and he’ll save them, I’d say he’s a narcissistic chauvinist gay prick, wouldn’t you say? Find me ONE Metallica song with a she in it. ONE. I really WANT to believe they’re not, because Metallica being gay redefines everything I ever held true in this universe. No. In this Milky way. What next? Cookies aren’t pastry? ONE. I implore you.

How come nobody else noticed?

I’ve been dreaming. It’s quite odd. I never dream. I’ve been dreaming for three nights in a row now. I didn’t want to jinx it, but I genuinely stopped believing in all things supernatural, jinxes included. Dreaming though? It’s so beautiful. I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d say something as sappy, but it’s true. They’re so fucking beautiful. Dreams and nightmares alike, just that psychedelic brain activity that’s activated the moment your conscious thought stops being the boss around. When the leash on that entity inside your head slips and it gets to show you what you never let yourself see, for fear of running through your adrenaline and endorphin storages all year round. The stuff you keep stashed out of sight in case they clash with your sanity, because you know they hold opposite charges. Stuff. It shows you stuff. It wasn’t the coffee that took it away. A good friend once told me that the reason why I never have dreams is because my caffeine intake interrupts my REM cycle. I’m still on coffee, same as ever. In fact, yesterday my caffeine intake was shot up by three coffees and an espresso because I had a lot of work that day. Thing is, I just started dreaming all of a sudden. That entity decided it had something to show me. And it was so beautiful, even though I don’t know what it is most of the time, but it feels so good. Not all the time though, but I don’t care. They’re so beautiful. I don’t want to go to having time gaps bitten out of my consciousness that I define as sleep. Those little bites of death. I want to have those images. Those People. That uncharted territory. I want to see the things I wasn’t allowed to see, by whoever decided I shouldn’t. I love that my head doesn’t know it’s happening. I don’t want to change them so they’re more pleasant, because they’re not. I want to see them. All of them. Every night.

Why?

Life Lesson #80: People react oddly to care. Tested theory, it will only backfire. The misinterpretation can be traced back to the assumption that people were leachy organisms at one stage of evolution. The category that most people fall in, to my experience, is “cactus”. They just sit there and wait for things to happen to them, waiting for people to talk to them. So, when a non-cactus comes by, the interest is perceived with suspicion. After all, what gives a shit about a cactus if it wasn’t a parasitic bug sucking up its juices? Cacti know that. Odds are, You’re a cactus. What’s pathetic though is that most cacti don’t have juices. If they’re hovering, appreciate it. If they’re not, stop looking at em. They’re not coming and you’re not moving.

Life Lesson #81: You’re not a vampire slayer, you’ll never be. You can’t walk away either, just try to die and not turn into a vampire while you’re at it.

Life Lesson #82: I dub thee unforgiven.

Life Lesson #83: It All begins with a ‘yes or no’ question, and ends with a ‘yes or no’ statement.

Life Lesson #84: Maybe reading the manual isn’t so bad after all ..

Life Lesson #85: Things don’t work out, you just stop being a jerk about them.

Life Lesson #86: Walk away.

Life Lesson #87: Death Metal beats choking pillows on the catharsis scale.

Life Lesson #88: Stop. Turn. Explain.

Life Lesson #89: Blekh.