It's funny how I stare at my monitor all day and try to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to write. I mean, whenever I'm doing something else, different kinds of stuff flood my brain and stumble together to create a perfect and unblemished design -- but, whenever I face my monitor, it's as if they evaporated together and all I get is a piteous and awful *DING*.
So, what's there to talk about?
I don't want to blog for the sake of blogging. I want to blog because I want to write. I want to express myself in the least defective way. Although, yeah, my recent posts are whiny, aggravating, and, um, irksome. I KNOOOW. That's why I AM going back to my old style of, er, ranting.
Yeah, ok, I've been wondering -- if I do start to act happy even though I'm not -- it's as if I'm being some pretentious little bitch. I mean, hello, I'm not being myself. I dunno. GAWD. I'm torn.
Well, ok. I think I got it. I'm going to minimize my blusters and, yeah, I'm going to focus on the fun things in life.
My life is too short to be wasted. I ought to live it to the maximum. No, I'm not saying that I'm going to do drugs -- I may be a dickhead but that's the last thing in my mind. I swear. All I'm saying is that, I dunno, I'm going to portray Mary Sunshine. I'm going to laugh just because I feel like it. I'm going to smile just because my armpits are not itching. I'm going to grin like a maniac just because.
I once read somewhere that happiness can't be bought -- it's a choice. It's your decision if you want to dwell on your fucked up life. It's your prerogative if you want to have this heavy feeling inside you, and yes, even if you want to smile, all you'll produce is a grimace. Really. It's a choice.
And, I WANT IT. I swear. I wasted a hell lot of time crying and being sad. Now, I want to spend the last few days of my Senior life as one of the happiest persons in the batch. I could do that. I would do that.
SMILE like there's no tomorrow. 'Cause, who knows, it might be your last. It's the only thing that makes sense now.
CHEERS.
SONG: The Killers' Mr. Brightside. This song reminds me of all the happy times when I was in Third Year. :)
So, what's there to talk about?
I don't want to blog for the sake of blogging. I want to blog because I want to write. I want to express myself in the least defective way. Although, yeah, my recent posts are whiny, aggravating, and, um, irksome. I KNOOOW. That's why I AM going back to my old style of, er, ranting.
LIES. LIES. LIES.
Yeah, ok, I've been wondering -- if I do start to act happy even though I'm not -- it's as if I'm being some pretentious little bitch. I mean, hello, I'm not being myself. I dunno. GAWD. I'm torn.
Well, ok. I think I got it. I'm going to minimize my blusters and, yeah, I'm going to focus on the fun things in life.
My life is too short to be wasted. I ought to live it to the maximum. No, I'm not saying that I'm going to do drugs -- I may be a dickhead but that's the last thing in my mind. I swear. All I'm saying is that, I dunno, I'm going to portray Mary Sunshine. I'm going to laugh just because I feel like it. I'm going to smile just because my armpits are not itching. I'm going to grin like a maniac just because.
I once read somewhere that happiness can't be bought -- it's a choice. It's your decision if you want to dwell on your fucked up life. It's your prerogative if you want to have this heavy feeling inside you, and yes, even if you want to smile, all you'll produce is a grimace. Really. It's a choice.
And, I WANT IT. I swear. I wasted a hell lot of time crying and being sad. Now, I want to spend the last few days of my Senior life as one of the happiest persons in the batch. I could do that. I would do that.
So, let's clean the slate and start anew.
SMILE like there's no tomorrow. 'Cause, who knows, it might be your last. It's the only thing that makes sense now.CHEERS.
SONG: The Killers' Mr. Brightside. This song reminds me of all the happy times when I was in Third Year. :)
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