2004-09-04 01:12:16 ET|
Itís about 5:00 a.m., I donít know if I should be asleep or dead.
I just know that some while ago I was drunk with some old colleagues from high school, as usual, I canít seem to be a good drinker, 4 beers and some other Ron-like and thatís all for me. I hadnít seem those guys since like 2 years ago. We all got drunk. But as usual, in any social circumstance, Iím like having the normal personality disorder in secret. While Iím laughing at their shit-drunk-talking, Iím feeling the usual painful mind inside my head.
Realizing that I still have the worst pathetic life they could have met, I become more and more aware of how Iím so ridiculously dumbass in this world. While they were talking about all their ďplaces and techniques to fuck a girlĒ, they all seem to be pimps to me, made me feel like a shy maggot, I cry inside my head being another irrelevant romantic failure conceived in this planet. The drunkness is almost passed now to me, Iím just dizzy; but I still can think some honest cognitive coherence to write what Iím thinking. Maybe the main reason why I agreed to go with them to get drunk was because I got too depressed at midday after flunking two tests at school.
Woe is me. I have nothing of worth for someone. My heart cries flames. The incognita is set to put an end or to but a nee beginning. Blood drown. Where am I to end? Someone hug me or kill me without remorse. The poet is sinking in tears just to find more blood. Iím not sure why the philosophical templates of insanity seem so common to my eyes. Tired, so tired, I need to rest... in any form.