To He Who Has Taken Me (And The Rest Of The World) For Granted Immensely

Caution: This is another “throwback rant”.
October 21st, 2012

I’ve given a lot of thought about you over the break. I’ve thought of the old times, of your heartaches, of the moments, of us, of each of your enigmatic actions and of how much I loved (past tense) you. I’ve thought about a million things about you. But at the end of the day, all I’ve really thought about is how much I HATE YOU. Yep. I’m done. And this might be just a spur-of-the-moment, but I know there is a reason why I am feeling this sudden hatred towards you. It’s like, just who do you think you are?! Honestly, I see now that you’re nothing but a pile of bullshit. I was gonna regret investing so much in you and believing so much in you, but I figured it’s great that I learned this the hard way. You, bastard, just taught me the greatest lesson in life that I learned so far. And it has something to do with dealing with stuck-up narcissistic self-destructive morons like yourself! I may have let my guard down and fed your ego without me even noticing it, but here’s me breaking the news for ya: YOU’RE NOT THAT GREAT. You are, *drum roll, just another piece of crap. You are cold, you are boring, you are vapid and you are easily the clearest definition of asshole. You walk around thinking you’re so different and so mysterious and so dangerous, and you’re expecting the rest of us to can’t help but say that you are such a COMPLEX individual, but guess what honey, you’re the simplest man I know. You are not at all complicated like people think you are. You are simply fucked up. And really, there’s nothing complicated about that. You cross my mind and I can’t help but break, or scratch, or smash, or burn, or kill whatever it is in close proximity. And when I see you, I control myself because I don’t wanna go to jail just yet. I still have foods to eat, and movies to watch, and books to read, and friends (real ones) to hang out with, and love to feel, and sex to have, and swings to swing on, and Christmas presents to unwrap, and jokes to laugh at, and water to drink, and songs to listen to, and party poppers to pop. But you. You can just hump your way on down to death because that’s what you’ve been all this time: DEAD. I don’t even know why anyone would ever put up with you and your grimy little cunt of a self! You deserve nothing. Absolutely NOTHING from anyone who’s actually real and genuine and ALIVE. You are the swarthiest dirt of the earth that I know, and I hope that you suffer way more than any human being alive today.

And I know that you can’t even read this coz you are one of those hippies who claim that they NEVER facebook, or text or whatever. Well nobody cares if you don’t do what most people do. That doesn’t make you any less of the scumbag you already are. Because the next time you aggravate me and get on my nerves with all your shallow, totally lame and endlessly irritating jokes and homophobic slurs, I sure am gonna verbally assault you with all that I’ve written here, and then I will rip your head off… And if I don’t succeed with that, I am gonna shave your eyebrows off in the middle of the night. You deserve to be miserable.

(I’ve killed you about 17 times in my head by now)

This is a Hate Rant

My Symphony: The Way Home by Sleep Dealer


Taken from my personal journal, dated Sept. 11th, 2012

I walk along the road right in front of my house every morning, and I see little kids playing, sledding, running and laughing, and they all look like they have life all figured out. They all look like they don’t have any problems or any greater wants and needs other than fun, love and friendship. And so everyday, I would take a moment to observe these kids and I would think to myself, “These kids will grow up someday. And someday, these kids will have the same problems that I have now. They will get hurt, and they will change, and they will go their separate ways, and they will have their hearts broken.”

I always thought life was so much simpler and easier when I was little. Probably the biggest problem I had as a kid was the fact that I didn’t really have a lot of playmates. But that wasn’t really that big of a problem. I would just sit alone in my room and talk to my toys, or lie in my bed and pretend that I was floating through great numbers of clouds. But growing up? Growing up has made things a whole lot convoluted – growing up has fucked me over. It has scared the living daylights out of me.

The last time I remember I was genuinely happy was when I was ten and playing with sand and stones at a construction site. I was just this pure, genuine, blissful entity. I didn’t know much about politics, the government, society and all that comes with it. But I was always smiling.

I don’t know what happened. Oh, I remember! Life happened.

I look at myself in the mirror and each time, I am just disgusted of who I’ve become. But no, not really. I actually think that I am a way better person now than I was for the past 18 years.

If I could tell my young self one thing, it is to “go fuck yourself!” Every time I remember the awful things I’ve done to my friends, my family and my lovers, I just can’t help but regret how evil and shallow I was. I regret being a disloyal, self-absorbed friend. I regret breaking so many people’s trust and friendship. I regret the fact that I’ve never really been genuinely in love with anyone in my past, but acted like I was. I regret not being appreciative of the love and the care that my friends and family gave me. I just do. I regret all of it. Because now? Now I know what it’s like to be taken for granted. I know what it’s like to hurt so much that I can’t even sleep at night without having thoughts of how I’m so worthless and of how I deserve every bit of heartache that I’m feeling right now. Shit!

So… hate. What is it that I hate?

I hate people who come and go just like that! I hate how you can talk to someone for hours and the next thing you know he’s just ignoring you like you’re an insignificant piece of shit. I hate people who are so caught up in their past that the people in their present suffer because of it. I hate people who don’t think they deserve to be loved. Like, seriously, what is that?! I think that’s bullshit! It’s bullshit because there are actually people, like me, who believe in you! People who actually care about you. And you just shrug us all off your shoulders because you think no one can be trusted? Because you think we’re all the same? Because you think people are temporary? Well let me tell you one thing – you’re the one who’s temporary! Gawd, I just hate this. I hate people who are selfish about their feelings – people who just can’t seem to let anyone love them, and just love them back. I hate it because it sucks! It sucks that you feel so connected to someone but then all of a sudden fear, and ego, and society, and whatever crap it is, come into the picture and destroy what could’ve been a genuine human-to-human relationship.

I think that the way the majority view life is simply disgusting. People always say “Oh! That’s life. It’s normal. People leave, new ones come. And you move on!” Well I think that’s just ridiculous. Because I know that I am someone who actually learned to value people – friends and family, especially. I have learned that true love and true friendship don’t happen everyday. They’re rare. And I learned all this the hard way.

Now I know why people are so sad and lonely. People are sad and lonely because they are a bunch of cowards! They are alone because they are so focused on money, career, success, fame, or that feeling of being “cool and awesome and accomplished”. But fuck that! Even if I die young and unaccomplished, I will die happy because I at least managed to actually be honest to myself and to people about my feelings and of who I am.

I am convinced that this is me – this is who I am. I write a lot, I read a lot, I think a lot. I am moody, I am emotional, I am melodramatic. I have a messy, un-styled wavy black hair, I don’t do sports, I don’t have ripped muscles, I don’t like action movies, I indulge in a lot of over-feeling and over-analyzing, I drink too much coffee in the morning, I don’t own a mansion by the ocean, I tend to come across as weird and quirky but in a creepy way, I despise the taste of beer, I am erratic, restless and yes, maybe I care about things and people a little too much and too often. And I can be many other different things, but I do know what I’m not: I am not numb, and I am not insensitive. And I may not be everything, but at least when I tell someone I’m a friend I actually mean it. And if you think that that’s not enough – that I’m not enough – then that’s just too damn bad for you.

I was that person before, and I hated him. As a matter of fact I still do.

So to all the people whom I’ve considered friends but decided that I’m just another speck of dust on the floor, I don’t know where you are, or what’s going through your minds right now, but I think that you should be ashamed of yourselves. You really should.

Life’s too short for me to waste my time with selfish little self-absorbed assholes.

Happiness is Exhausting

My Symphony: Take Me Somewhere Nice by Mogwai


The ghosts in the photograph never lied to me. I’d be all of that – a false memory. (Mogwai)

Tonight is one of those nights. Those many nights…

Let me begin by saying that I sincerely find happiness a rather exhausting state of mind. One would think that it is something that resembles a reward of some sort – the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I think that generally, happiness (whatever it means to people) is a rare thing. But contrary to the stigmatized notion of it, happiness is actually not a destination. It is not something that you work hard for in order to achieve in the end. I mean, it’s not even something that’s achievable, nor is it something that necessarily comes in the end. Instead, it is the tiny bits in between the everyday hustles and bustles of life that are pirouetting within one’s self in totally random moments, and for a brief amount of time. Happiness is not the trophy one gets for finishing first, or second, or third in the rat race; it is instead a penny, or a letter in the alphabet, or a piece of a jigsaw puzzle – something of a really small size and value that has the potential to become magnificent when joined with all the other really small pieces, creating a larger-than-life picture.

When I was in first grade, we were asked in English class to write about our “Happiest Moment In Life”. I’ll be completely honest: I do not remember what I wrote at all. But I don’t blame myself. Perhaps the content of my essay was greatly insignificant that even my seven-year old self knew it wasn’t worth remembering. Poor kids we all were in Ms. Gemma’s class. We were so young and we were already introduced to the concept of happiness as this one human experience that beats out all the other experiences; this concept of the “most unforgettable experience” as a merit for having lived one bold, outrageous day in your life. If the school wanted us to be prepared for the real world, they should’ve made us write on “A Happy Moment In My Life” and “An Unforgettable Moment In My Life”. Not these overwhelming titles with superlative adjectives that only blow everything out of proportion. If I could rewrite that essay on a happy moment in my life, it would go like this:

A happy moment in my life was when I woke up really sick and didn’t want to go to school. My dad just finished reading his morning news, and he seemed to be in a bad mood. He picked me up from my bed so quickly that he hurt my right arm. He then said to me, “You’re going to school no matter what.” I cried, and I cried because the way that he said those words was cruel. He’s always like that. He always thinks that I am faking it. Moments later, as I was sadly sitting in front of breakfast looking like a pale donkey, Mom held my hand, and then she hugged me. She said, “You don’t have to go to school today if you’re not feeling well baby.” Then she smiled at me.

If there is one thing I learned in the first year of my 20’s, it’s that life is not simple. And the newest trends in the Internet are making it even more complicated for humanity to breathe and really be itself. I don’t know where this came from or who started it, but these days, it’s almost like a disease to be unhappy. Nobody seems to be allowed to get sad or depressed anymore without getting looks of pity and, believe it or not, disgust. We live in a world where one’s heartaches and problems are considered as weaknesses and, according to the obnoxiously sarcastic Internet users, boring shit which ain’t nobody got time fo’. Everything right now is all about having fun, living because you only live once and attracting nothing and nothing else other than good vibes. Anyone who dares to rain on people’s parades is immediately dismissed as an outcast, a loner, a weirdo and worst of all, a loser. A poisonous loser.

Everywhere I go, every turn I take, I keep on encountering people who implicitly claim that they are allergic to sadness, that they find the idea of depression very unattractive. We’ve all heard it. It’s all over social media, it’s all over the news, it’s all over television. People like Miley Cyrus broadcasting their very exclusive views on life and the way that they want to live it. “That’s not really me (‘new Miley’ referring to ‘old Miley’). I’m just all about fun, and that’s, that’s who I am” <insert loud applause of hundreds of fans in the live audience>. The entertainment industry, in all its forms, has successfully glamorized life and romanticized living.

Stop. For crying out loud, just fucking stop it. Not the media (it’s a little too late for that anyway), but you. You reading this right now, you with the heart, you with the soul. Stop being a slave of society’s sugar-coated tyranny.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with sadness.

I’m sick and tired of these hipsters walking around acting like they rule the world for basically not giving a fuck. I’m sick of these optimists feeling the need to be positive all the fucking time. I’m sick of these pretty girls who think that they just cannot fart in public, and these ripped guys who force themselves to not get attached and be emotional. I’m sick of all those highly inappropriate grade school essay topics, and I’m sick of the teachers who think it’s okay to suggest happiness to kids in a single, superlative light. And I’m just sick of everybody who is quote-unquote allergic to sadness. Fuck you. I hope that your life is filled with pure fun and nothing else. Just that. Just pure fun until the day that you die. Maybe then you’ll be happy, but I strongly doubt that.

It’s just all too much. Too much make-up. Too many masks. Too many pretensions.

I swear to god the next time I hear someone say things like “I don’t do drama. I’m all about fun”, I will punch that bitch right in the throat and tell her, “Look, honey, it actually goes both ways”.

It does.

Life is not a one-way street, and people need to understand that. Just embrace the fact that sadness and happiness don’t have to be two opposing forces. Learn to relish in the joy and the misery of being alive in this planet. Otherwise, you’re making it hard on people like me, who actually see happiness as a very separate concept from fun, and who look at sadness not as a sickness but as a mere reality. A reality no one should be ashamed of.

Happiness alone is exhausting. It is only meaningful and desirable when it has randomly jolted out of pain (or nothingness).


The temporariness of people, of things. The abruptness of changes. The evanescence of human relationships. The superficiality of man’s desires. The misunderstanding and the deprecation of the reality of the spirit and of the very human core. The selfish submission to conformity and conventionalism. The endlessness of hate, and questions, and anger, and sorrow, and the fleetingness of bliss that comes with a string of vile fear and emotional miscalculations.

Ambivalent Asymmetry

My Symphony: The Zookeeper’s Boy by Mew

Dogs love their friends and bite their enemies, quite unlike people, who are incapable of pure love and always have to mix love and hate.
–  Sigmund Freud

Being human comes with the capability of experiencing a myriad of emotions at any given time. More often than not, we all try to neglect or even escape whatever it is that we are actually feeling. We divert our attention to things that are unreal in order for us to spare ourselves the bittersweet reality. I should know; it’s what I’ve been doing for the past eighteen years of my life. However, this Love and Hate project brought me to a different place, with a different perspective and with a clearer understanding of the very depth of my own emotions.

I’ve given a lot of thought on my Hate project way more than I have on my Love project. I literally spent almost a day just thinking of what it is that I really hate. After hours and hours of deliberately over-analyzing the awful things that happened to me in the past, I finally came to a decision, and that is to talk about how I was psychologically bullied by a bunch of girls and how I was betrayed by somebody I treated like my own brother. Talking about such a terrible event that happened to me in high school in front of thirteen people seemed to be fairly easy; except that it’s not. I have worked so hard to forget those horrible people in my life and to move on with as much positivity as possible. And then there came the day when I had to actually look back at what was and really consciously let myself feel the same kind of hate that I felt towards those people more than four years ago. After I shared my hate story to the class, I was really angry at those people again. It’s like all of the emotions and pain that I thought I threw away a long time ago never really went outside of me on the first place. Because of the Hate project, I learned that I’ve always been mad at a lot of people, and that I’ve always been carrying this hatred in my heart since day one. I guess I was just scared of how destructive hate can be. But I no longer feel that way. I think that hate is a beautiful thing. This is a probably such an odd thing to say considering the fact that hatred and beauty are two very opposite concepts by definition, but after I articulated my anger and after I kicked and stomped on those mats, I discovered what’s beneath that hatred and condemnation.

Sure, I still hate those people. But quite frankly, I can no longer remember why and when I started being cold to them and to the world. It’s almost like the reason is no longer there but the effect remains iridescent. I mean sometimes we hate people, and we despise them like there’s no tomorrow. But a day comes when we begin to forget why we’re mad on the first place. And this is where the wake-up call kicks in. The day we forget the reason why we are mad at somebody is the day we realize that we were never really mad to begin with; that underneath that hate is actually sadness. We are sad because things didn’t turn out the way we wanted them to, because our expectations outshined the outcome, and because as we grow up, we acquire the sufficient knowledge and wisdom that enable us to understand that life is an almost never-ending scope of closing cycles. And we don’t want that. No one wants that. No one wants that kind of life where he has to deal with the fact that good things always come to an end and that shit happens all the time. But it’s neither a good nor a bad thing. It’s just the way life is. And that’s what the Hate project ultimately taught me: the complexity of human emotion and how it is often inter-related to another set of emotions that we didn’t really know were there all along; love, for instance.

When I did my Love project, it was very surprising that it almost felt no different from when I did my Hate project. I talked about my mom this time. She really is the person I love the most in this world, and I didn’t really expect that talking about my wonderful experiences with her would bring out other emotions like fear, depression and even hate. I started out talking with such a happy voice, but I practically began to lose that faked jolliness as I let my story progress. I even choked my words for a bit. There was a tightness in my throat while I was imagining my mom standing right in front of me as I’m telling her “I love you”. The same thing happened to me in my Hate project. There also was a sort of lump in my throat when I said “I hate you”. It’s really weird, but it’s also incredibly astounding. I do not know what it’s like with other people but in my case, love and hate both boil down to this one thing that never seems to go away—sadness. Because of this one emotion, I discovered that hate and love are actually related in so many ways. It is really true that we hate because we love. In the same sense, we love because we hate. Either way, there will always be sadness underneath those two extreme emotions. This takes me to the bottom line of all of this.

Since I was young up until now that I am living barely the last two years of my teenage life, I have been taking life experiences in very large doses, both consciously and subconsciously. With those life experiences come the parade of events that either made me or broke me. Either constructed or destroyed, I learned something from each of those events that have shaped me into who and what I am now. That shape is defined by the mistakes I’ve corrected and by the lessons I’ve learned the hard way. And all of those laughter, grief, sorrow, pain, frustrations, failure, success, love, friendships, betrayals, anxiety and anger were worth it, because at the end of the day, what makes me human is my capacity to feel. As a human, I am allowed to feel whatever it is that I am supposed to feel. As an actor, it is also crucial to have access to a lot of emotions, and the only way to do that is to dig deeper into your own self. No one else can feel your emotions for you but you. We are all responsible of unlocking those memories and those experiences that make us feel more, which eventually enable us to do more… act more.

Now that I have gone through the Love and Hate project, a more substantial explanation of David Mamet’s definition of acting is set right before my eyes. As an actor, I do not have to be somebody else to feel something I don’t feel like feeling at the moment. I don’t even have to fake emotions. Ultimately, it’s about taking into account my own experience as a human being, and just letting myself remember, reflect and reverberate.

Acting is living truthfully in imaginary circumstances.” – David Mamet

I Pull the Trigger, Motherf*ckers!

Listen to this sh*t: WITHOUT ME by EMINEM
(while reading this awesome post)

| Written April and published May of 2010 |

I was supposed to write about how SAD and DEPRESSED I have been lately due to the twists and turns that have been taking place in my life this summer. (But after I’ve found out another crap some urine-drinking hag has been spreading, I just found myself saying “enough drama!”)

Well, we all love this sun-soaked season. With all those beach parties, poolside snacks and cocktails and non-stop partying, who doesn’t love summer?

But I have to say that summer 2010 hasn’t been fair to me.

I’ve reached the point of having too much crap already. I’ve reached the point of wanting to blow off some steam that I have chosen to keep inside my head for months (or even years, if I will let the many previous tragedies count). I even think I’ve reached the point of itching to trash talk after a long long long time.

Because in case you haven’t noticed, I tried my DAMN BEST to be a good boy the moment I stood on the grounds of senior year. But it’s true. They say being good has its price. And right now I can no longer afford it. So here I am, making things clear with everyone that I’ve had enough. That’s it! I’m done playing the “talked-about” or the “despised” or the “questioned”. I’m just through with all the people’s crap and dirt that I just want to take a jet plane and fly off to somewhere else– somewhere far from this already stinking city.

And I would also love to say that I regret meeting some of the people in high school. I regret laughing with them, talking to them and even just sitting right next to them like I never knew something was apparently wrong.

Because obviously I’m not really the Mr. Congeniality type of kid.

But what I don’t understand is that some of my haters? I actually treated them like my own brothers or sisters. And no matter how good I try to be around them, they just keep on hating me. Or maybe not really “hate”… let’s just say “detest” me.

Some of my friends asked me once “Kenn, why are you writing about haters? Do you have one? I don’t see any.”

Well great! Haha. Well I remember Therese asking me this last February. The point is, NO ONE ELSE (aside from me) KNOWS THE HARD THINGS I”VE BEEN THROUGH.

And if one day I will be crazy, like literally crazy, I wouldn’t wonder anymore. After all those crash and burn, I am convinced it will be pretty hard for me to stay as the same person I was four years ago. That easily-tricked vulnerable, fragile, obsolete person.

So here I am… with my last goodbye kiss to all my beloved HATERS:)

\”WithoutMe by Eminem\”

Hater # 1: Little Ms. Rat (Ilaga, kung sa dialect ta pa)

I named you Ms. Rat because of one simple and very understandable reason: (well, aside from the fact that you look like one)… you are a stinking rat because you only come out of your hide-out when people are not around. You wait for the right timing to infest other people’s brains. When the person you want to destroy isn’t around, then that’s the right timing for you to finally spread your ugly dispositions. Do you want an interpretation? Okay. In short, your are nothing more than a decaying PLASTIC!!! A little advice: just keep on doing what you’re doing, rat. Because you’re getting so good at it. I even thought we were actually finally getting along with each other lately, but I guess not. Once a rat, always a rat. And even if you daydream a hundred daydreams of becoming a beautiful swan, you will forever look like a quacking duck, oblivious of the reality about what is and what will forever be. I just can’t believe how when I turn my back to you, you immediately flood the hallways with your juicy rumors. So just keep talking. I don’t really care about you anymore. You’re just making me famous, you ugly duckling!

Hater # 2: Bb. Bunganga

This girl works hard just to show people everything she knows about the goings-on around the campus. She may have a not-so-big-mouth, but you know what they say! “It’s not the size, it’s the prize”. Haha. Oh well. Hey miss, never think that I will ever forget you because frankly, you are one of those many people who made my image look like hell about three years ago. You were one of those people who stick around the corner to exchange petty trash talks about people you either CAN’T HAVE or CAN’T BE. But hush. I totally understand why you’re doing all of this let’s-hate-Kenn hype! I mean, after all you’ve been through with your own lame life, of course you would surely find solace in destroying other people’s lives. But whatever. You still put the “boo” in “taboo”.

Haters # 3: The Lion, the Witch and the WAR-drobe

Why do these three always come together? Simple. Because they have one thing in common: a boring lame life. That’s the only reason why they devote about 3/4 of their precious time in talking about how other people look awkward in their imperfections, not knowing how UGLY they themselves look with their own. I feel sad about these three, though. I mean, all their lives, they have been eyeing everyone around them that they haven’t been able to look at themselves in front of their f*cking mirrors. Ang saja pa gid is WAR freak gid ni ang isa ia. Oh well daah. What can we expect from this kind of people. They have nothing (absolutely NOTHING else to offer). Just them and their silly out-of-date pettiness.

Hater # 4: Ms. Technological Tantrums

Can’t you think of any other ways to express your hatred (or shall I say “jealousy”?) against someone you obviously despise than in facebook chat or through text messaging? Oh damn. What are the odds? Well, all I can say is “bravo, Kiddo!”. You are doing an undeniably magnificent job! But do you call it “effective use of technology”? Well I call it an ultimate resemblance of retardedness and superficiality. Oh, and one more thing I hate about you is that you act like you’re this pretty little girl who thinks she can convince everyone that she is as innocent as a 30-year old virgin, but the truth is we all know you are just as WASTED as a spoiled peanut butter sandwich in the trash can. :) ) So honey, never think that you’re all that, because all people can see everytime they look at you is the face of a fish, nothing less. In short, LANGSA ka na. Inog sugba, kumbaga. :p

Hater # 5: Odd-creature-turned-fashionista-wanna-be

Ai ahai na lang. This creature hated me since the day IT saw me. Haha. I mean, come on. No one can ever (ever) deny how IT tried ITS very very best to pull me down everytime I rise up. I don’t even understand why I did cling to this creature when in fact, I know ever since that IT is a mere good-for-nothing TH. As in Tanga kag Hangag! And now the worst part about this creature is that IT confidently thinks IT will make ITS way to the runway. Well, daaaah! Of course, you will never get even just the slimmest chance of even putting just a tenth of your right foot on the runway because the truth is, you look like a homeless lunatic. And you clearly have no taste in fashion. I’m not saying that I am a fashion guru or something. I mean, I don’t even care that much about fashion as much as this creature does. But that’s exactly my point! This creature thinks all-fashion but looks like pure HELL (in the making). Hey, beyotch! Now I can sum up everything I’ve been wanting to tell you in six letters: HA-HA-HA!

Haters # 6: Batman and Gremlin (soo not Robin)

If the lion, the witch and the war-drobe always go together, well so do Batman and Gremlin! :) ) What these two do is this:

First hour in the morning: BACK STAB!

Recess time: BACK STAB!

Free period (teacher not around): BACK STAB!

Lunch time: BACK STAB!

Bookkeeping class: BACK STAB!

Dismissal: BACK STAB!

Oh whatever. But do you know what these two will be doing ten years later? Here…

Ten years later: BACK STAB!

Haha. Pieces of lemmings! Sigh. I hope one day I will be faithful enough to pray for two such poor souls as yours, Batman and Gremlin.

Now you two definitely put the “ass” in Jackass.


OH MY GULAY. It’s been three days since I’ve finished writing this post. But I decided not to publish it, or let’s just say, not to publish it yet. I mean, all of this was originally not in my plan this summer. I actually should be writing about what is going on lately, and what are my reactions to things and people, but I don’t know why I ended up composing a MAD page. Aaaaaah. This is just so unlikely. But I guess SOMETIMES, GOOD KIDS PASS THROUGH ROUGH TIMES.


I am a good person. Okay, everyone is. But there are just times when all your positive energy is being sucked out of you by certain circumstances, and you act differently. You start to get irritated, anxious and depressed. And that’s what I’m going through right now.

So forgive me, my dear haters.

Anyway, this will be the last. Sometimes I just need to be a little bit bad in order to move on.

And we all know what they say: In every good, there is evil.

Goodbye, my loves. I am gonna miss you and your pettiness. But most of all, I’m gonna miss minding your crap because this day will be the last day that I am ever going to get you inside my head.

By the next minute, you’re all out of it.

P.S. I actually have more haters, but I decided not to include them in my goodbye kiss anymore. It is, I believe, enough for the world to know that anyone of us can bounce back to every demon around us.

… For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.


Ciao, loves.