Breathe

I realise that I haven’t updated this in a while, it’s just that with school starting off on the wrong leg, I really don’t wanna tell you about the amount of things that have gone wrong in my life during the course of the past month, peaking this week to an irreversible spiral. I will not, anymore. Talking never did anyone any good, every body has their own shit to deal with, so I decided to regress to my past dumb self. Everything was so much easier when people were just moving interactive entities. I just have to get through the first week I guess, then the piano room will be available again, and I will have this one outlet, just like I always have and everything will be alright again. Steinways beat Adams and Eves any day of the week.

A shout-out to Markus Zusak about the ending of the Book Thief. Dude. The fact that you’re so fucking oblivious what that might do to people who actually relate on some level to some of the brutal unfurling of the plot is sick. Toying with people’s feelings and aggravating it with that objective narration makes me want to truly hurt you. The lengths you’d go to put the book on the bestseller list have proven how much of a pathetic wannabe you are. You don’t do that to people. You just don’t. Shout-out goes to a friend who thought they were helping, or whatever the hell they were thinking, by pulling on the big guns. I should have stopped you, it’s my fault. Then again you should have known that using them is not an option, whatever you were thinking. Not An Option. Not Ever. Why did you have to say that? See, that’s what I meant by the other part. Everything was so much easier then. If no one knew the big guns existed in the first place, they wouldn’t pull on them now would they? Just the way it should be.

Loopholes are funny. I always had a knack for using em. You see, all I have to do if I wanna switch off the lights once and for all is to drink a little too much juice. Speaking about that, last night, I kept falling in and out of sleep, so, spur of the moment, I wanted to pick on death, so I got two juice boxes down, sat there and waited for the lance of fate, or whatever the hell the thing that this scary cloaked dude holds is called. The one day that I want allergy to hit in, it doesn’t. Isn’t that just dandy? To all the Markus Zusaks of the world. Go fuck yourselves. I wanted one of your plots and I didn’t get it. You owe me two Piňa Colada juice boxes.

Since I’m on with shout-outs, lets get em all in one place shall we?

Hey mom, you didn’t feel like making lunch today, you forgot that I might feel like eating.

Take #2, you felt guilty and ordered out. Ma kan mel awel?

To the big gunner, you’re getting unbearable. You don’t even know it.

One off into space and back to my happy place, the piano room, switch back to one of your past lives and go all organ on the teachers who decided to use you as storage room. School book surplus never did anyone any good. I need you. Holla for me.

Coffee, thanks for being selectively suicidal today, choosing my oesophagus as a last resort over the wooden drawer.

Gravity, thank you for not claiming my coffee today.

Heil unspoken codes, why am I the only one who speaks you? Why doesn’t anybody else like it? Terrorist much?

One out to People, go back to being spectres that I swim through to get to the piano room. I don’t appreciate your materialization. Reverse it. I don’t like you.

My momentum capsule, the elliptical trainer. You keep me sane. You, I like.

Einstein, I will never forgive you for creating the illusion of time, why couldn’t you just keep those little bites of space reserved to you? I will also never forgive you for not bringing it down as an illusion when you mathematically proved it is.

And to wrap it up, to the two bookstores in my vicinity, if it hadn’t been for you, I would have pursued civil engineering as a career and build myself one of those skyscrapers just so I can jump off it.

In the name of coffee, maths and the holy crap. Peace out.