Friday, June 18, 2010


Everything is going to be alright. Before you break into singing, let me tell you that this isn't one of your reggae songs and I'm sorry for ruining your karaoke moment. Its just these words are running through my head for a couple of weeks now. No I will not whine about all the negative things in this cruel world nor think of slashing my wrist. For Pete's sake I'm done with all those emo shit. My mind is talking endlessly again and maybe just maybe a parcel of venting off about it won't hurt. Cigarettes are a thing of a past and besides that's what my asthma is telling me all the time.

I dunno if it is only me or have you ever felt that the time is so fuckin' slow but when you look at your Facebook account it seems that everything is on fast forward mode? When I click on Home, most of my "friends" are getting hitched. What the hell? Is there any truth with this end-of-the-world thingy that makes everybody marry somebody? Just try to look at the profile pictures of your friends. Can't it not make you say "Congratulations! You're still in the running to become America's Next Top Model'. Oh well if I'd talk about the things I observe in those social network sites, blogspot will have its own downtime. (mods please do not delete my post!*evil grin*)

I am okay. Fine! I'm trying to be a bit okay. I have torrent who nourishes my ears with good quality music and my eyes with out-this-world-humor TV series. I find solace in keeping silent while cussing the world inside my brain. I still scribble shitty stuff when days are not favorable to me. Being a mom doesn't exclude you from being yourself. I still do the chores and even If I'd cut myself in half, it wouldn't still be enough. Issues of getting fat, growing old, career pressure, bills, bills and more bills. All these things just make you sing "wouldn't be nice to be together" by the Beach Boys. Reality check I am alive and yeah I'll get by. It's just one of those days. Oh and I remember my mom would always tell me whenever I blaspheme myself out in frustration, "Pia thats very unladylike of you". With an evil smirk, mentally I would reply "Oh yes mom, I'm one fine lady!"

So much about typing, my son is now pestering me for

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