My Symphony: There Is by Boxcar Racer
Isn’t it ironic? We ignore the ones who adore us, adore the ones who ignore us, love the ones who hate us, and hate the ones who love us.
I don’t know about you, but this happens to me… all the time.
The people whom I have ruthlessly kicked out of my love life just like that used to tell me that one day, I will get my karma. Well, little did they know that the karma they were talking about has actually been ruining my life a long time ago. And I don’t even call it karma. I call it CURSE— a certain black spell some wicked witch might have bestowed upon me since the day I was born.
Well, I hate to break this to you in my own blogosphere haven, but I am once again officially depressed by the fact that everytime I like someone (like REALLY like someone), THINGS ALWAYS GO WRONG. I mean, yes I have been a little harsh on some of my frustrated stalkers, but I don’t deserve something so cruel as this one. Something which repeats itself all over again.
Can’t I be happy for just a little while? It’s not like I hadn’t been kind enough to fake relationships before. I actually deserve a gift, you know.
AAAAAAAAH. And whatever this “Jasmine” has in mind, I sure have someone to blame if I get choked eating a tray of donuts and gallons of ice cream out of depression.
But I am Kenn Tenorio. I won’t stop at the the first detour. In fact, I won’t stop at all. Not until someone else gets hurt.
P.S. This is my shortest and most emotionally reckless post. In dialect, PAUTWAS. And don’t worry if you find this post useless or uninteresting as the others. The sole purpose of this entry is to type away my melodrama so I’ll eat less carb-loaded food and concentrate on my sleeping disorder.
… and oh… yes. I will REALLY do what it takes to take this one down.
Watch out, Jasmine. You know what they say. If you can’t have it, exterminate it.