The pest took a sip of the pesticide. The doctor said it'll kill him sooner than his scheduled death, but he felt the chemicals only made him stronger.
You better hide behind the sewing machine, which made your horrible prom dress last year. Because you know what she's capable of when she finds you in his seemingly oversized honeycomb shirt.
A boar, a zebra, a whore. The progression of a fable wasn't such a bore after all.
The bourgeoisie entered and saw today what tomorrow he will conquer. Pity on the struggling.
Breathe my breath, I just turned you into gold. I turned into rust.
Darkness is not an absence but rather the smallest form of light. Intellectual stimulation is meant to be constructive, but you and your lack of good judgement will see it as an insult that will result into self destruction. When I close the case by saying nothing, don't go searching for a light in the dark, you won't find it not because it's not there, it's only because you're blind.
The truth lies for every moron to live in convenience. It's not a cruel world after all.
I'm heartless and I thought you'd be the one who could help me find one for myself until I've seen yours is already bleeding. Sweet times turn sour when you find yourself pages ahead of me and decided to heal that scar with a bandage before you bleed yourself to dry. I'm responsible for this messy state of a so called love affair, that's how I know I'm the one who's worth leaving. By not wanting you to get caught up alone in a bitter situation, I'm actually learning how to care. Smiles.
If you can leave the one you're with for me then you can also leave me when someone else comes along. Do you really think you're worth investing emotions? I don't think so. Unless you wanna say something, you may now take off your clothes so we can get down to business and maximize the time we have left.
I made up my mind and I didn't have to think twice; I don't like you anymore. With the metamorphosis of what you say as a new and better self, figures you failed to see that I liked you as you were. When you've overcome your insecurities and redeemed yourself, you know where to find me.
You say I'll never be capable of loving but you know that's a lie. The truth is you're only avoiding the pain and shame from admitting that it could never be with you. You say you're taking this last chance to say that we're through and I say what's to end when I can never find the heart to start anything with you. The sadder part is the fact that you can never make a dramatic final exit cause there's nothing to leave behind as you never had any piece of me. But you can always go to sleep and dream of it for the last time to end all your dreams and save yourself from your tormenting illusion. Maybe then you'll stop blaming and start loving yourself.
 It's been months since Slutty Hazie came back from London but her constant bitching about the third world makes her sound like she just recently arrived. The distance between the UK and the PI is approximately 11,000 kilometers and she's prolly still floating somewhere in between not anticipating to deal with a long term jet lag from a body clock adjustment of a 200 year time difference.
It failed to grow back on her, evidently when she asked what's going on and why is there a power outage, I said blame it on the rain, which she remarked as thugged out. Soon enough, she'll have to ask the housekeeper to get a tank of LPG when the stove runs out of gas in the middle of making black ink pasta, notice that street signs here are only suggestions rather than rules or get a hair treatment every two months from bathing in hard water.
The complaining should come to an end once she becomes accustomed to the primitivities of The Jurassic.
Patrick says I have to meet God, because I am so soulless I need a divine intervention. But I refused his help, because I can't picture myself acting like an unknown laundry detergent TV commercial model.
I say Patrick has to meet my stylist, because he is so unfashionable he needs a cosmetic intervention. But he refused my help, because he is comfortable with the way he looks like an unknown men-in-uniform fetish porn flick actor.
Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in this blog are purely fictional and only for entertainment purposes. Similarities with any existing person is purely coincidental.
You ask how come I don't call you anymore, I say I had a lot of things going on. You ask if I have taken my lunch, I say sandwich. You say I remembered to take my lunch but not to call you, I say I haven't been thinking about you lately.
Erasure without closure, my last gift of long lasting pain for you. Only this time, without the pleasure.
You were oh so sweet, so careful and so nice because Beauty seemed oh so pretty, so kind and so fragile. Whatever it is that you got in those sweaty little palms, all of it will turn into rust.
It was oh so good, so fun and so jovial because Beauty seemed oh so friendly, so smart and so funny. Whatever it is that you heard and found to be very clever, all of it was a joke on you.
You became oh so devastated, so crushed and so betrayed because Beauty now seemed oh so aloof, so insensitive and so inconsiderate. Whatever it is that you felt, all of it will never be reciprocated.
Oh poor little heart, quickly devoured in one piece and transformed into a little piece of stinking shit. If only you weren't blinded by such deception, you would've seen that Beauty is oh so wicked, so evil and so ruthless.
Sadly, clothing is the closest to approximation and you looked foxy in your dress so I thought I'd buy you a drink. I asked the bar tender to get you another glass of whatever you're having then you looked back at me so I came over. You said something in Carabao English and it doesn't matter if it was clever, that alone had made me feel so tired as I was immediately sent through teleportation to the boondocks, the farms, the rice terraces, under the scorching heat of the sun, sweat on my skin, pain on my back, I felt my jeans wet soaked in the mud where I was sowing sweet potato seeds with you. Fuck, these $200 jeans are not made for farming! Of course not, you just accidentally spilled your drink on them. So I said it's early but I gotta get going, truth is, I just can't stand listening to another word from you, the last one was stressful enough to put me to bed. You should stay however, after all, the first bus back to the mountain with no name where you came from doesn't leave in 6 hours anyway.
* based on Taffy's 04|19 J.Lo Encounter.
You're not in love with me. Because of course, how can you be in love with someone who treats you like dirt unless you're a masochist. That's another offense and you deserve it as you're really worth nothing more than it. You just didn't see it because you were blinded by your obsession with the idea of falling in love and taking an affair towards the only direction you misconceptually know as relationship. And when you get it you'll eventually get tired of it cause you never really knew what you wanted out of it. And until you figure it out, every so called relationship you'll have will never last.
I must take the time to applaud you for ruthlessly and glamorously bitch slapping that philandering swine. What you did was brutal yet honorable and dignified. But we must admit, I can say that only because I wasn't involved in the scene. Yes love, I still have a little selfishness left in me.
Now you know I was right when you had to learn your lesson the hard and hurtful way. As your ever considerate friend, I understand why you didn't take my advice at first. But what I resent now is you not telling me that you picked this shameless schmuck off the streets, the level of ghettoness that is far out from our supposed standards. For this, we must cool off our friendship for at least a day so I can think things over and forgive you for ruining my reputation of having friends with only the finest tastes.
If you only needed someone to call your own, I would've made a better boyfriend. Because my loyalty has long been tried and true despite of what the unfortunate ones who never had me say otherwise. Too bad though, you're not my type.
You miss me, you said that and now you wanna take it back. Because after you found out I could never feel the same way about you, you wish you haven't spoken too soon. I can say anything I don't mean, that excluded.
Now you see my flaws and thought perhaps with just a little effort you could change me to become the perfect person you had me in mind. So you try to search for my softer side but I'm only getting harder, try to make me mellow but I'm only becoming more ruthless. By the time you give up, your frustrations have already turned into anger.
I say it's not my fault that I can never be attracted to you, you lie unconvincingly saying you can't either. I say it's because there's more to it; deep inside you really wanted me. You tell me to dream on, I say I just ended yours.
I've never clicked on this radio button because I do more than just thinking; I make decisions and act on them. Sure there's a lot to put into consideration but I only see it in duotone; black and white, in stock and sold out, single and taken, no half baked answers. After all, what's simple is true.
I was preoccupied and busy with a lot of things that I forgot to have dinner so my stomach started to get growling hungry late at night. I went down to the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed a baguette and cut it in half. I was too tired to fix something to pair it with so I decided to open a can of spam but it wasn't there. I remember having a couple of them and now I find my grapefruit juice is missing, so as my bags of potato chips and wafers and crackers and wasabi peas that I clearly remember were placed on top of the lazy susan. I know you came here earlier that day while I was out to attend a party, and that was actually the first time you were in this house without me ever since I started doing groceries. That should've given you ample time to grab whatever you wanted, figures why you needed a key for this house. And I wouldn't doubt that it was you because after all, you always had a record of being the biggest swindler in the history turned into a fucking pathetic pack rat who brings home all the left overs from every party you attend. It's such a shame how you used to steal millions now you're stealing my groceries but your fighting spirit is worth commending. If only you were honest and humble enough to have asked for help, I surely wouldn't mind starting a Feed The Forgiven Swindler Fund Raiser, I swear I would. Besides, that would've earned me another ticket to heaven.
Big time turned small time, in the end, you still deserve to feed on rats and bugs or die of starvation. Now, can I get a witness?
There's a kind of lie that's not betrayal but rather, for the lack of a better adjective, cute, like the ones made by the self reserved and well guarded to keep one foot outside the door. Taking it easy, keeping it cool, it won't be held against you, it's only right that self love should always come first.
You just can't seem to quit bitchin' about your life and the more you do, the more pathetic you become. Because you were long a train wreck even before you knew of it so what's the point in complaining when it's never gonna change? Remember what you already and only have, keep in mind what you can't. You're helpless and hopeless. Everyone's grown up except for you and we know your life's never gonna get better, ever. You don't have to love it, if I had your life I sure as hell would hate it just as much as you do. But you can learn to live with it. Or kill yourself.
I go out, I carouse, I get wasted, I drive home, I sleep well. When I wake up, I'm satisfied that I had fun and didn't need to impress anyone.
I wipe the mirror clean to get a clearer view. I spit at the mirror, wipe it again and get a perfect picture. In the end, I'm the only one who can judge myself harshly.
No matter what you say, I can still afford my sumptuous meals three times a day.
When you break up and find someone else to cherish you the same way, it's only like you were someone's trash turned into another's treasure. And the cycle can go on. For a small town where everyone is everyone's friend, it doesn't matter if your best friend fucked your lover once, but only what you've made your lover's worth for as long as your relationship would last.
But players are commodities that can never be claimed, thus never disposable. And as only the gorgeous ones are licensed to play around, that explains why you can only hate the game, not the player.
| |
