You’re at Work, for Fuck’s Sake

Now remind yourself that, Clark. Remind yourself that you are at work and not supposed to be blogging.

I would always be that person who has a hard time connecting and building relationships with people because I am the not the nicest person you’ll meet. And yes, I won’t make much effort to be likable.

I don’t know if I’m stupid or a special kind of stupid to be expecting to find friends in here. YOU ARE AT WORK, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, you’re not in a summer camp expecting to gain a dozen of potential friends. Get of this site and work your ass off.

Friends don’t judge you and they take you as you are. The people you meet in the office are called colleagues for a reason.

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I’m the curbside prophet and I have no choice but to suck it.

LOVE: Because I don’t talk about it that much

LOVE.

I never expected  that I would end up writing something about love in this blog. Heck, I couldn’t even feel at ease typing out the letters to spell the word. But whatever, let see how this goes.

For starters, I just think being in love is so clingy, needy, intimate and blehk. It makes you do things, say words, dream hopelessly about things you won’t ever do when you are in your right mind. It is a drug that alters the way you normally live your life. It is dangerous. It is troublesome. It is not even logical at all.

I have seen the crazy things people do for the sake of the L-word. By crazy I mean re-adjusting your crazy scale because it is over the top. I have seen people get hurt for giving in too much, for missing a lot, for what else things love demands. Oh wait, am I describing a follower, a help or a servant maybe? Pardon that.

But who am I to say all these? From an observer’s point of view, it is what it is. And to be really honest, I am horrified of the day I will take back all I’m posting in here. Because if the L-word is there, commitment will follow, then more responsibilities. And to top everything off, I’m perfectly good at screwing all those things up. So avoid as much as possible.

But one thing I know is for sure, it is not the drug I want to mess with. I’ll take it moderately.

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I’m just the curbside prophet and I can’t say the L-word.

I’m Done

Life is unfair for all of us. And every now and then, a handful of people bitch about it. As I do, I whine like a spoiled brat. This one’s no different. Here’s another foul shout out to life: YOU SUCK!

Why do I constantly blame life for the mishaps and shit that come my way when in fact I know I am the one living in my choices and their consequences? I’m done. I’m really tired of the charades I’m playing. I can’t fool myself anymore thinking that everyday is another chance for me to make it right. It’s never was okay.

Being spontaneous? I’m done. Being fun-loving and outgoing? I’m done. Being optimistic that somehow ‘pbbt’ will eventually come and somehow change my perspectives? I’m done. Being so trusting with the people I surround myself with just to make myself vulnerable? I’m done.

They say, you gotta roll with the punches. But heck, why would I do that when I can just avoid the punches. Coward you say? At least I’m somewhere on another corner feeling bad about myself, but at least I am safe. Maybe it really is time to dissociate myself from the iconic Man of Steel. I’m nothing like that guy, we don’t even have something in common. He’s the good guy, I’m not. He’s the hero everyone looks up to, I’m not. All I am is ambitious.

I say to myself, “You were right all along. You’re better off alone”. Being out there is scary. People think they know you but they don’t. Damn I made sure to build this walls around me so no people can break my wall and me down. The worst things in life come free to us. One of the worsts.

I’m done with all the shit life is bringing. I’m done with all these shenanigans. I’m sooo fed up.

Guess what, I’m gonna be decisive now. I’m gonna be darker now. I’m gonna kill it this time. Because I know, I’m just..

 

..a hopeless case.

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I’m just a curbside prophet, and I’m done. I’m getting my rocket!

 

I Cursed in Class

this is not my high school

Earlier today, in our Oral Communications class, we  were spared a few minutes to recall an experience in the past that may have greatly affected who we are in the present. And in an instant, I remember the thorns of high school. I remember exactly how I felt about high school. Still the same. Very much the same. HORRIBLE.

If I were to speak up straight in class, I just might again fall back in a downward spiral reverting back into a nefarious black hole just to cover up that feeling of disgust and self-hatred. So instead I opened up my blog on my phone and looked up the post that expressed my sheer disgust for my high school: That Hellhole Called High School.

The AC was right beside me blowing cold puffs of air while I sweat like I was in the middle of the desert. I was trying to keep my calm and poise. Every word I read out loud still hits me to the bones. My hands are trembling, I can’t even scroll down properly. My voice is dying down, my throat is drying up. I did not make eye contact because I don’t wanna see how I was perceived at the moment. I was very vulnerable.

I was holding out fine until I got on the last line where I used a curse word. I was too carried away for my bleeping skills to do its job. I was a second too late. I said the F-word in class. Fck, my teacher was listening to every word I said and clearly she heard the last one.

Indeed, high school was that painful. And I’m still very bitter about it. I’ll always look fine, but I’ll never be fine. I hate how I was stupid enough to get some balls reading a very personal article I wrote. I hate how I fool myself into thinking I will be alright. And I also hate the fact that this is going nowhere.

There, it’s out in the open. It’s always been there. I will forever be hateful with things around me. Nothing to lose. I’m fine because this has been the norm for a period of time already. I am fine. I am.

But who am I kidding?

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I’m just a curbside prophet, with my hands in my pocket and I hate that rocket!

That Hellhole Called High School

FML.

So I have been out the whole day wasting my time and taking a stroll at memory lane on a highway to hell. That’s when I realized, just like most people, I HATE HIGH SCHOOL. Yes, it was fun, but turns out I never enjoyed it.

There are only two things you can do to enjoy high school: to fit in or stand out. Seemingly, I never fitted in. I never had a stable niche because I don’t know who I should surround myself with. So it left me with the choice of standing out. Yeah, I was an academic achiever but it was not enough for me to stand out. I was just an average of everything in high school, a jack of all trades. Back then, I thought it was enough for me to survive high school. Yes, I did survive, but the journey was bumpy and uncomfortable. I never enjoyed it. Just because I was a social outcast.

It took me this event in my high school today to realize what really happened in high school. I felt like I needed to throw up my guts because high school really was horrible. I never had a REAL friend back in high school. And I was really glad everything was reset after we graduated. That’s when I found some friends that were right the all along with me in the depths of hell. Clearly, I’m a bitter person and I hate most likely everything that looks or is happy. And I have high school to blame for that.

The “Fun Day” never had that fun vibe, IMO. To most people they had fun, I never did. Being back there with a new set of goals and perspective made me realize that high school will always be the place where issues don’t die down easily, things that are not important are a big deal to the general people, it felt like being jailed because there was limited freedom and only the ones who fit in or stood out are appreciated and welcome. The hallways are wide enough for you to feel so little of yourself. It made me feel less about myself.

And here I go again, going in a downward spiral turning into a black hole sucking every positive aura that surrounds me. Because I deserve happiness and no one is giving me the chance to enjoy what it really means. Life should be fair.

Well, it seems like I will be like this for the rest of my pathetic life– a bitter individual who looks like a whack job from the outside and a total mess on the inside. Clearly, no one is gonna help me pickup myself but me. And I feel so helpless I can’t even help myself. I’m more than 50 shades of fucked up. I’m the epitome of fucked up-ness. That is all mostly because of high school.

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I’m just a curbside prophet with my hands on my pocket and please my rocket, come and pick me up already!