drunken stupor.
Drown.
Drink.
Drown.
Love me like you mean it,
look at me when the world is but invisible,
--the meaningless meaning of your existence.
Prove you're better in reality than my dreams of melancholy.
Give order to my chaos.
Give chaos to my order.
You,
Me,
we're one and the same.
I'm here.
Just here.
Disclaimer: Don't read if you're chirpy/sunny/ecstatic/giddy.
The mood expressed herewith are applicable only within few hours of its writing.
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It's 9 AM in the morning and I'm salivating for cold beer.
Something's off. Awkward. Out of sync.
"Ok ka lang?"
"Ok lang."
(Functional) Socializing, in all honesty, requires a certain level of pretentiousness. Ironic as most truths are. Call it courtesy, modesty, discretion, or culture, all falls under the same category. I refer to face-to-face interactions of course and not socializing thru your avatars or profiles (which goes beyond the realm of pretentiousness and to that of the self-generated third persona, iconization, idolatry--oops wait that's another post).
Well lately I've been facing a lot of people and I've noticed I'm losing touch with my masks, so to speak. I'm just tired of...I don't know what. It's a cliche to say of lying because I still can (it's normal, it's a sign of development in the human psyche so get a grip. Crap even this post is getting too honest.) I just can't get the nerve of smiling to your face when you're no more than than a zit, a blur, or bluntly someone I don't care for. I have a melancholic personality. My normal facial expression is either anxious, unimpressed, sad, intimidating, disinterested or most commonly just plain thoughtful devoid of strong emotions. I'm just tired of having to please people or at least act like you're "okay" when your mood says otherwise. My face is getting heavy for such menial task.
Perhaps my strict adherence to propriety has finally taken its toll on me.
13 years of Christian education. Bible studies since pre-school. 4 years in a Catholic university sanctioned by the Pope. And the one year of freedom. Pak!
Does liberation from social standards and constraints means sliding back to being uncultured? To be one's self: post-modern or archaic? To rise above propriety in the name of le naturale: social anarchy or essentialism? The questions feel like a bad joke. A matter of perspective yet again.
Survival, however---social survival that is, in all its redundancy--is not. So what's my point? Nothing. The point is I don't mean to say anything or do anything. At least I get to do that here. There. That one made me smile or smirk or something. Haha.
Mornings are really not my thing.
Pass me a beer, and I'll say "hello" dolly.