The dead moonwalker and the transvestite.

Michael Jackson is dead.

Megan Fox is a dude.

Let me repeat myself.

Michael Jackson is dead.

Megan Fox is a dude.

What the fuck is happening.

Michael Jackson is awesome, I still could recall the days putting soap on my feet and trying to moonwalk while having a bath. Heck, i still do it nowadays. Minus the soap. Falling and cracking my head is not a pleasant experience.

He is the only guy that actually has style. Well, if you observe all the fucking artists nowadays, it's always the same thing; punk, emo, lifeless fuckers that walk around with razors constantly in contact with their skin. Not that I have anything against cutting (A-hem) but the whole I-hate-the-world thing gets old after a while. While all this is happening, MJ puts on a hat in some fancy way, screams out 'Smooth Criminal', starts moonwalking and everybody goes 'FUCK! Is he a squid?!'. That, little kiddies, does not get old. Then, just like that, I opened DArt and finds a million tributes for him. I went 'Is it MJ week ah?'.

He died.

He fucking died.

A non-theathrical exit, no goodbyes, he didn't even moonwalk out.

Son of a bitch. What an irony. You live your life full of props and fancy stuff but you die just like that. WHAM.

Still, nobody could forget Thriller or Smooth Criminal. Perfect.

Now we move to Megan Fox.

Who happens to be a dude?

As in hairy legged, facial hair + schlong dude?

To Megan Fox's fans out there who fantasize about her day and night:

*Roaring Laughter*

This is why one should stick to celebs that have already given birth to kids. People might look at you and go 'Dude, you're disturbed man' but hell, it's way better than me telling you 'Dude, you jack off to a dude mate.'

Revelations. What would life be without them. Okay, enough on chics with schlongs.

Today, I had to make a big decision. Life changing if you must; not in a good way. I hate it more than ever, making decisions that is. Especially when it's not necessary. Seriously, can't it wait until I get back to M'sia? Or if you're that impatient, at least wait until my exams are over la bitch. Yes, I called you a bitch for the first time, see what happens when I stop playing Mr. Nice Guy? Still, it's bound to happen anyway, my mouth seem to itch due to the need to curse when i'm around you and I've ignored it. But now I can say anything that I want (Read: You gave permission) so here: Shallow ignorant fuck. Go have your fucking blonde moments somewhere potentially fatal, therefore it will save me the fucking trouble of pulling the trigger myself. Yeah, people like you don't deserve to go through any of my fucking torture schemes. It's better if you die within a timespan of a few miliseconds.

Enough with le angst.

What's new?

1. Depression is scary at times. I wonder what'll happen if I fail to claw my way out of the vortex.
2. I am coming to terms with the fact that I'm in a study group for the first time in my life.
3. I am also coming to terms with the fact that I spend an average of 6-7 hours in the library for the past 10 days. Hmmm, shouldn't libraries be kryptonite to me?
4. There's too much blood in me. Need to find ways to effectively remove them.
5. I'll take a song to explain this one. 'You shouldn't come around here, singing up people like that.' It's obviously not on purpose but hello, it is so easily misintepretated by people like me. Which will obviously turn out to be just another fantasy of mine. Then, you'll escape unscathed and free while I rot in a cesspit that I threw myself into. Perfect. Amusing isn't it, watching me be this way.
6. I have to admit, some Malay songs are damn good la wei. As in old ones.
7. No more layaning the stalkers. I am going to tear you apart, limb by limb and play football with your head. Please, I cannot afford to go all everyone-is-equal shit anymore. You are nobody to me. Get that through your thick skull.
8. Do not try to cheer me up. What you do is destructive. I'm talking bout the clouds here. To those who're offended, go dance in lava.
9. There's a wonderland in our college compound. Now all I need to do is find a rabbit hole so that I'll be able to jump in and not return here.

Oh man, don't you get the irresistable urge to do this?:

You've been hit by *Hump air* You've been struck by *Hump air* a smooth criminal.

You don't? What a freak.

Depression.

If I don't wake up tomorrow, just smile and move on.

Couple.

So anyways, I was talking to this Egyptian girl I met at the exhibition when she went into the topic of relationships. Read: Me no likey. Anyways, as the conversation goes along with her constant prodding into my personal life, I decided to tell her things. Which is something that I regret. Truly.

H: You have any girlfriends?
Me: No, not that lucky.
H: But why?
Me: As I said, not that lucky.
H: Oh... Ever had any?
Me: Yeah some, but hardly worth mentioning.
H: Why?
Me: Uh... Coz it lasted less than 3 months? Things like that don't really strike me as significant.
H: Why didn't it last?
Me: ...
H: ?
Me: Coz of many things? Or maybe I was just bored.
H: HOW COULD YOU?!
Me: O.o
H: How could you play with girls like that?
Me: What do you mean play with them?
H: You were bored?!
Me: I said, there were many things. The boredom part came at the last moments.
H: Yeah so why didn't it work? Give me an example.
Me: (Supress need to say What the bloody fuck?) Uh, we were not on the same frequency?
H: So what if you're not on the same frequency. You still can make it.
Me: The hell... Look, it wasn't anything serious at that time, we both had our own thing going on so basically it ended. Understand?
H: !!!
Me: ?
H: So you were playing around with her!
Me: What?!
H: Maybe she wanted to test you!
Me: I wasn't going to fucking marry her
H: So why'd you have a girlfriend for?
Me: WHAT?! I'm fucking 17 for fuck's sake. Did it occur to you that it's fucked up to get married so young?
H: So what? You can marry her when you're older
Me: I do not believe in relationships lasting for 10 years. That's pure unadulterated bullshit.
H: You can if you want to.
Me: Exactly. If I want to.
H: You don't? So how are you going to get married when you want to?
Me: I don't wait 10 years for it.
H: I can't believe you would do that to girls. I bet she left you because she couldn't take it.
Me: Hahaha, actually, we broke up coz she cheated on me.

Tsk, tsk, watch your mouth woman. I might not be in such a good mood next time. Anyways, really, 10 year relationship might work with otherwordly creatures but not with me. I have a very short attention span mind you. So what a bout marriage you ask? Marriage is different you stupid fuck, marriage is when you take up a responsibility; it's when saying I don't care is not an option. Marriage is when you honour a vow you take and if you break it, you're such a man-bitch/whore.

So back to what she was saying, her idea is that two people becomes an item only under the intention of getting married. These two people will then fight anything that comes their way which might threaten said relationship. Finally, after a period of time, they will get married and live happily ever after. The end.

I'm sorry, you must have confused your identity with somebody else's. I think you're a character from a fairytale who got lost in the real world. Right? Coz what you're trying to force into me really sounds like a carbon copy of Snow White and the horny seven dwarves. Where is your brain woman?

I don't deny the fact that some people have been able to be in a relationship for a gazillion years, get married and lived happily bla3. But have you ever wondered that things might go wrong? Things that you will not be able to fend off? Do you really think that this so called 'love' thingy was that strong? Maybe you could but have you ever considered death? I doubt that.

I will tell you the reason of why I approve this coupling shit. It's to know the other person better, to find out the flaws etc etc. It's when you are together as an item that you can be sure that the other person is not some mad psychopathic paedophile that will rape every single one of your kids and feed them Friskies everyday till they die of trauma. Random, but it might happen. See, the sole purpose of being an item is to get to know the other person better, if he/she rubs you the wrong way, it ain't working out. I find it amusing and also fucked up that some people try so desperately to change who they are just so that it suits his/her significant other. If he/she is truly the one for you, he/she'll accept you along with your flaws, your freaky pet peeves and you as a whole. No one should change just so to satisfy the other. That is waaaaayyy wrong to me.

Marriage is overrated. Seriously. Everything ends with marriage. It's like when you get married, you break out of the cocoon that your life once wrapped you in. Newsflash: Marriage is the cocoon. Again, some lucky ones might make it. You assholes. See, that's why it is fucking important to know just who the fuck you're gonna spend the rest of your life with. If you don't, can you imagine the fuckloads of lives you're gonna destroy? Imagine what's gonna happen to your kid. Oh and to those who're about to load they're I'm-Saint-Anti-Couple Shotgun, going out together and spending quality time doesn't mean you dive into the nearest bush and start to have kinky sex. Ever heard of chaperones? Wait, maybe too big of a word for some people. Read: An adult who supervises one or more unmarried men or women during social occasions. Courtesy of Wikipedia.

Now there's this huge notice thingy at uni saying shit bout 'As a (Thank you for the correction. You know who you are.) Medical Student, what do you think of marriage when you're still studying or some shit like that. Seriously, what does being a medical student have to do with anything? Maybe you wanted us to write something medically related? Hmmmm.... I think this passes the test?

As a Medical Student, I think that marriage when I'm still studying will disrupt my studies due to the hormones raging in my body each time I look at my wife. My brain will cease to work as my receptors will only react to sex, sex and more sex. This will lead to me failing all my tests and also cause depression and eventual suicide due to the mounting stress of having to repeat all my tests. That's just me.

Yes, that was a joke. To those who have no sense of humour, hate mails are welcomed. I don't know. If you guys want to open a discussion board for medical students, shouldn't it be about more Medically related stuff? Like 'What do you think of patients who refuse to take medication due to personal views' etc etc. At least give something that is related.

Okay, enough already, Dr. Phil is possesing me.

Hey You.

Note: Title stolen from Pink Floyd due to the gears in my brain jamming up.

Z.F.: You need to sleep.
Me: I think so too.
Z.S.: What the... Chill la macha, you're not that sleepy yet.
Me: I am, you dilapidated cekodok.
Z.F.: So what you waiting for? The bed looks very inviting.
Z.S.: Is it just me or did you just called me a banana ball?
Me: I know I should but I kinda feel like the time used for sleeping is no longer useful. And yes, I did call you a banana ball.
Z.F.: That coming from you is somewhat outrageous. No longer useful? You get fucking inspired when you sleep. What the fuck has Egypt done to you.
Z.S.: Why banana ball? Why?
Me: No longer mate. My source of inspiration has shifted to somewhere I can't seem to reach. Or understand.
Z.S.: I wanna be called Hoorijammy. Call me that.
Z.F.: Right. You can die from exhaustion you know. I'm just saying.
Me: Yeah heard bout that. But, I feel fine, really. And can you please stop it with the fucking randomness? It gets on my nerve sometimes.
Z.S.: Ooohh you can die from not sleeping? Now that's bullshit mate. Worst case scenario is that you pass out. And fucker, my randomness is what defines you. So don't start with that shit.
Z.F.: You can and you will if you continue like this.
Me: So what, dying doesn't look so bad now.
Z.S.: Hey, I wanna live. Don't die yet. Not until I control you.
Z.F.: Now that's pure bullshit. You love life as much as some old chinese loves his caligraphy art thingy.
Me: Meh, I think I can handle losing it.
Z.S.: Haha! Le Angst! You remind me of Keats!
Z.F.: Enough, sinner, go away. Life has it's ups and downs. You know that. So stop acting like you're the only one that have problems.
Z.S.: You bhaenchod. Looking for a fight ey?
Me: Stop it. I have a fucking headache. What you mean... I don't have problems. I'm just having my yearly depression period.
Z.F.: That shit don't exist.
Z.S.: Belle... Belle... So charming, so perfect... I wanna meet her.
Me: It does exist. Look at what happened after form 5. 2 months mate, I was lucky to get out with a few scars. Might not be so lucky next time.
Z.F.: Okay, good point. Still, things were different back then. It'll be fine mate.
Z.S.: Let's stalk her. Yes. Let's.
Me: How is it my friend that things are any different. It's worse than before, that I can tell you.
Z.F.: Sigh. Let's just see how things work out aight? For now, you need sleep.
Z.S.: Wait, please tell me you're gonna do something bout her. I mean, she's giving off vibes man! DO SOMEHING!
Me: You're gonna kill me one day. Thanks.

Hey you, out there in the cold
Getting lonely, getting old
Can you feel me?
Hey you, standing in the aisles
With itchy feet and fading smiles
Can you feel me?
Hey you, dont help them to bury the light
Dont give in without a fight.

Sleepless nights 11 - Life is not hard.

It's gets annoying to see the fuckloads of people saying stuff like 'Life is so hard' etc etc. Really, it's okay at first but it gets on my nerves after a few times.

Life is a bitch, there is no denying it but it is not hard in any way. It has it's ups and downs but that's what makes it really worth. There's always a mountain to climb; each day, a new one will pop out of nowhere and in my case, I stare at it and usually go: Holy fuck, I gotta climb 'THAT?. I bemoan my luck but when I finally come to terms with it, I'll look back and shrug, it wasn't such a bad thing. Then a new day comes and a bigger mountain grins at me and I can do nothing except grin back.

Worst of all, it is when people say life is hard when it comes to relationships and so on. Seriously, do want a rock shoved into your ass or would you prefer cabinets? Coz I sure as hell would prefer my leg being the one. Let's take an example.

Miss. X likes Mr. Y but Miss X is being pursued by Mr Z. And Miss X would everyday, without fail say 'Oh fuck, life is so hard' when she is doing good in other parts of her life.

Oh, this does not refer to anyone, if you get offended, the door out is the red button on the top-right of the screen.

Have you ever wondered why, when you keep on bemoaning your luck, things get worse and worse? It's because you keep your mind occupied on that very issue that every single thing that ends up being fucked up is magnified a thousand times. If you keep your mind occupied on other issues, let's say some other thing that's going on pretty good at that time, believe me, things won't seem so bad. If you're going to give me the 'Nothing is ever good in my life' shit, then a big fuck you I present thou. I refuse to believe God is that cruel to make your life such a living hell.

I'm not saying I'm Saint I-am-so-fucking-optimistic. To those who believe I am, you do not know me that well so shut the fuck up. A-hem. Do excuse the angst. I'm going to say something which might seem self-boasting but do look at the moral value.

When I lost my wallet which I have always labelled as my life, I really felt as if the doors to hope have shut, locked fifteen times in a row, barred with iron rods and with booby traps added onto it. But then I saw the people at the beach trying so hard to help including my friends and I despised myself for fucking being depressed. These were people who had no blood relation to me, knew me only for awhile and they were willing to sacrifice their time just to help me. After that, I just smiled; not because my brain cells died a horrid death due to the trauma but because I knew that whatever it is, there is always something around myself that I could use as support. Maybe it's because I have a different perspective on life. Beats me. Then, my family here supported me in ways that I could never ever repay. I hereby thank Shaz, Ika and my brother for helping out. After that, I occupied myself with things that didn't have to do with my belongings and it was okay. Not that it wasn't hard, do you have any fucking idea how deprived I get from not being able to hold a camera in my hands at all times? Still, I survived. A-hem, I now officially stop reminiscing.

My point is that life always have tricks hidden up her sleeve to fuck you upside down. It really is necessary, how would you learn, how could you be a stronger person if it doesn't? It's only when we humans are at the very edge of Death's scythe do we fight back with all our might. Whether we escape unharmed is another matter.

Okay, enough on that. It's getting mushy.

Things that annoy the shit out of me today:

1. I've slapped myself a gazillion times today. Why? Coz those fucking mosquitos keep on getting on my cheeks. Cibai!
2. Again, mosquitos, only that they aim my feet more. Cibai!
3. I have this itch on my back that hurts like hell when scratched. Must be those mosquitos again. Cibai!
4. I hate sleeping at night nowadays. It's like there's no point in doing so. Just by lying down on the bed attracts an army of mosquitos which makes sleepng impossible. I try to use the blanket as a fortress but fuck, it's like being roasted alive. Cibai!
5. Why nobody answers the fucking phone when it's really urgent. Cibai!
6. Facebook has become fucking dope. Cibai!
7. Urgh! Cibai!

Song of the day: Dosed by Red Hot Chilli Peppers.
Word of the day:

From Merriam-Webster's:

Pronunciation:

\ˌa-bə-ˈrij-(ˌ)nē, -ˈri-jə-\

Function:

noun

Etymology:

Latin aborigines, plural, from ab origine from the beginning

Date:

1533

1: an aboriginal inhabitant especially as contrasted with an invading or colonizing people
2often capitalized : a member of any of the indigenous peoples of Australia

From The Devil's Dictionary:

ABORIGINIES, n. Persons of little worth found cumbering the soil of a
newly discovered country. They soon cease to cumber; they fertilize.

Ciow.

Wrath.

The embers of her cigarette brightened as she took a drag. Blue smoke pooled at her full lips and swam out, taking shapes of demons and angels alike as it floated upwards into the cold still morning. She sighed and crushed the cigarette onto the glass ashtray. It wasn't going to be good day. She got up, ignoring the protest of her muscles and will, and walked, no, drifted towards the wash room.

The mirror reflected a beautiful woman, maybe in need of a good nights sleep but beautiful nonetheless. She brushed her teeth and turned on the shower at the same time, cringing at the chill of the icy cold water. Taking a shower was not an option that day, she was allergic to the cold water and she knows it. The splash of the cold water on her face was electric, it coursed through her skin and into her bloodstream. It travelled into her brain and demolished whatever fatigue or sleepiness that lingered there. She took a quick glance into the mirror before she left the bathroom. This time, the reflection was no more a beautiful woman but a handsome man. He sighed as he entered his bedroom.

His life is a continuous cycle of the same items carefully planned and executed. A routine, a boring, dull, lustreless life. However, it was the only way he had survived. There was no way he could have gotten to his current position, and being able to accomplish a few notable feats, if he had listened to what his heart told him. Never. After he got dressed, he walked out of his house to see only his driver there; he was trying to get a stain off the car. With a wave of his hand, the driver started the car and drove below the speed limit.

"Where to, sir?" He thought of it and then made his decision.
"The sea. I need some fresh air."

He gritted his teeth as his driver swerved the car at a junction. He hated speed. To him, the thrill seekers or so called adrenaline junkies were better off dead. His phone rang. He ignored it and looked out of the window instead. He saw the kids running around and dreamily thought about his past. Those were the days where nothing really mattered except for having fun. His family was not the typical loving one; the very opposite to say the least but he got through. He knocked on his temples lightly and just like that, the memories floated out of his head like mist on a cold winter morning.

He found himself unable to avert his eyes from his reflection on the tinted window. He saw himself looking back at him for a few seconds and then... A woman winking her eyes and grinning slyly. His eyes widened and he felt his throat tighten, then it all disappeared.

"Drive faster you moron. What is this? You trying to show the world you're a designated driver or something? Step on it!" She leaned back and scoffed. So much for adrenaline junkies better off being dead. From the corner of her eyes she saw a man's terrified face in the tinted window. Another sly grin and she rolled down the window, the wind from the outside surging into the car.

"Sir? We're here." She thought of strangling the driver for calling her sir and waking her up from her deep sleep but thought against it. It was not his fault that he could not differentiate a woman chained in a man's body. She grumbled and stepped out of the car yawning lightly. Where was she? Ah, of course. The bastard's favourite place. The sea.

"Go get something to eat and stop staring at me as if I'm going to shoot myself. Fucking take your leave. Now." The driver was once confused by this metamorphosis of personalities his employer undergoes but after a year or two, it became somewhat amusing. He tossed the keys up into the air, opened the car door, snatched it from mid-air and slid into the metal cocoon in one swift motion. He never looked back as he drove away. He of all people knew what his employer is capable of doing once he switched personalities. Oh yes, of course he knew. He was there and every single time, he gets an unmistakable chill up his spine.

She stretched and pondered on what to do now that she was stuck by an isolated seaside. He intrigues her, what could a man possibly do by a seaside? That was when she saw a homeless person wandering around. And her fingers tingled and she started to salivate, her heart raced as adrenaline raged in her boiling blood. The sanity she had left was only to think: This must be my day.

He woke up with his head pounding and with a very obscene taste in his mouth. His muscles were on fire and then, as he struggled to get up, realised that his ankle was sprained. He frowned and sat down heavily. His eyes were cloudy and when it cleared up, he saw the sea in front of him; the sun slowly being drowned by the horizon and when he turned around, the body of a man, half consumed, hung on a tree in a spread eagle position. His fingers shivered uncontrollably as it travelled towards his mouth and traced a line on his lower lip. The finger stayed there; chiefly because his brain was telling him that he could not handle the truth and also because he refused to believe it. A moment passed, the finger left his lip and his field of vision was slowly brought upon his finger. He did not even have the time to scream.

A few hours later, he found himself lying on a very comfortable leather seat of a car; he assumed that it was his. His driver, realising he was awake, decelerated the car an approximately forty miles an hour.

"Rough day, sir?"
"What the hell happened? Tell me what the hell happened!" He was slightly hysterical, somehow he felt that anybody would if only they went through what he did.
"What do you mean what happened? I wasn't even there, sir. After you failed to answer my calls, I went back to the sea and saw you lying unconscious on sand."
"What about the dead person?!" The driver fell silent and kept his eyes on the road. He sighed, lit a cigarette and smiled as he felt the nicotine doing it's job.
"Sir, I do not mean any disrespect by saying this but I feel that you have some issues you need taking care off. You know, on the inside? That's the fucking devil you have in you." The street lights shone on his face as if mocking him, laughing at him in his time of need.

As soon as he got home he ran in and locked the door behind him; his driver feeling the least offended, walked away from his house to a nearby grocery shop and bought a bottle of whiskey. It was the only way he could bear what he saw.

Cold sweat broke and he couldn't stop himself from shivering. How was he capable of that? He tried to see himself tearing the flesh off another human being and failed; he had to rush to the bathroom and vomit all of it out. What he saw in the toilet bowl further increased his nausea; a lone finger, half digested and worst of all, it came out from his mouth.

It was only then that he felt a sense of resentment and utmost anger towards whatever that has been causing this, his hands were balled into fists and his face flushed. He took a chair and slammed the legs onto the floor in front of a full length mirror and sat down heavily. He proceeded to glare at his reflection. Nothing happened and after an hour he thought of something else. He was going to draw the demon into the open and stop him from causing anymore harm.

"I'm not leaving this spot until I get answers. I mean it. Even if I'm going to have to chain myself, I'm not leaving." He knew that it was somewhat idiotic to talk to a mirror but he had to try. He had to. However after a few hours of mindless babbling and empty threats, his attention started to evaporate and he even found himself dreaming. That was the very moment he heard it, he might have imagined it but he was sure he heard it. A minute sound. A scoff.

"Who's there? I demand you to come out!"
"I swear... You watch to much movies. You sound just like a bad actor reading an equally bad script." The voice seem to echo of the walls of his room.
"Show yourself!"
"Where the fuck are you looking?" Two claps coming from the mirror. His body instinctively took a step back. "Oh my, scared you didn't I? Tell me, do I owe you an apology?"
"You... You're the one from the car window! What... Why are you doing this?!" In the mirror was a fine looking lady, maybe in need of a good night's sleep, she was sitting down on the chair with her legs crossed and a smile that never leaves her face.
"Bingo. What do you mean why I am doing this? You do know who I am don't you?"
"No, if I was such a fucking genius, I wouldn't be asking you these questions." The fact that he was so calm remained a mystery to him. He should be scared, he knew it but somehow his mind and body did not register this woman as a threat.
"You're pretty slow, I have to admit." She produced a cigarette from the vast amount of creases on her purple dress and lit it. Blue smoke swam around as she started to speak. "I am apart of you; believe me, I would rather not be, I am your manifestation of anger. Basically, I am apart of you; again, I rather not be."
"That has got to be the biggest joke of the year. You cannot be me. You don't even look like me. And I am not an angry person, I have never been." He was confident of everything he said until he saw her face. She wore an expression of sincere sympathy, as if mourning for a lost loved one.
"Have you ever wondered why, as a child, you kept forgetting? You never remembered the abuse your father gave you every single day, you never remembered the traumatising bits of your life."
"What does that have to do with anything? My past is none of your concern"
"Oh, believe me, it does. Your past was what shaped me, created me. I am your vessel, you everyday hate is channeled into me. And of course, it is the nature of every container to burst, to explode when too much the pressure inside is too overwhelming. That is the time I surface to empty the container. Do you understand?"
"No, I don't fucking understand. My anger is not to a point where I go around fucking eating people. I do not... I..." He was at a lost for words. Somehow what she said made all the sense in the world.

The woman in the mirror then stood up and stretched. She walked towards the reflection of the cupboard and opened it, shifting through what looked like an extensive collection of woman's garments. She then closed it and grinned.

"The thing is... I've somewhat taken a liking to the world. It's so much more exciting than what I perceive when I'm in you..."
"What are you getting to?" He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
"You really are slow witted. I'm saying that I want to be the one that is controlling. I want to be you."
"What?! No!" He was frightened. Truly. He looked at the door and thought of running away. This was a big mistake.
"Do you really think that running away will make a difference? You are weak, if I want to take control right now, I could but, me being such a courteous lady, I do have the need to ask for your thoughts on this." She blew on her fingernails and polished them on her dress. She cleared her throat. "So? Can I?"

By the time the whiskey bottle lost half of it's content, the driver was already drunk. He has never been able to tolerate alcohol, not once in his life could he leave from a party sober. In his state, he heard the door of his employer's house being opened and he stood up, shakily, to greet him. He put the bottle down and walked towards him.

"Did you settle it?" His vision was hazy due to the alcohol, he misinterpreted his employer's grin as a normal, happy one.
"Oh yes, we don't have to worry about any demons anymore, my friend."
"That's good to hear, sir, you really scare me everytime you get into your crazy state." There was a malicious gleam in his employer's eyes.
"Sir?"

*END*

A/N: And there you fucking have it, I told you I'll finish it after Anatomy exam. God, I am far from happy, it just misses something... Maybe because I changed the theme halfway through the story? Meh. Feedback is needed here, more than ever.

Sleepless Nights 10 - Woes.

Here I am looking at the clock and listening to the distant sound of Bob's voice speaking and all I can think of is:

ANATOMY EXAM IS IN 4 HOURS.

Yeah, I know. Wait. I don't. Forgive me for not being on the same frequency as all of you other normal humans but right now, sleep deprived and in submission, I really can't think straight (The Author reminded himself that he has never been on the same frequency. Ever.). My life force is being forcefully sucked by a huge radioactive straw labelled ANATOMY and I can't do shit about it. No, screaming would just wake the vast amount of neighbours I now have. Again, no, banging my head on the wall would just cause more memory loss in which I really couldn't afford to have right now. Of course, jumping off the building is not an option, I refuse to have my COD stamped as 'Death from studying anatomy.' I refuse. Now, more straws are being forcefully inserted into my body, namely in the form of fucking mosquitos. Sigh. Where have the good ol' worriless days gone to... Please, that's a rhetorical question. If you don't know what it means, basically it's a question that you don't fucking answer.

I opened my deviantart page today and I got a somewhat unpleasant surprise. Well, actually pleasant at first then it just went bad. Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you. Yes, you. Forgiving and forgetting is not in my nature, I might not hold grudges but I sure as hell have a good memory.

Talking bout DArt, (The Author pauses and takes a bite from the heavenly Coffee MORO by Cadbury and savours the taste, floats for awhile in the clouds and then realise that he's just imagining things) I realise that they aren't gonna come to Egypt. EVER. Damn it. Turns out the world tour thing was based on the world's most populated places by Google. And no, Egypt and Malaysia is not included. Damn. So now, I call upon every able bodied person out there to start reproducing. That way, DArt will come to M'sia! Oh, genius, genius! No? Please? Pretty please?

I had a dream that I went crazy today. Before you laugh and say 'You're already fucking crazy, stop bullshitting.', let me explain. Ever seen a movie where the characters got strapped on to a table to prevent them from harming others and themselves? Yeah, problem is I wasn't fucking strapped on to a fucking table. DING DING. In my dream I kept on getting these visions of bad things happening and it got to a point where I can't take it and started to go berserk. Read: Self-induced injuries and a fuckload of demolishing furniture. Awesomeness. A foresight of what I'm about to become in a few years time? Hmmm... Oh, to Sukh and Nithya, a big fuck you motherchods! Your bets about me becoming normal in 2 years time in 2008 doesn't seem so fucking realistic now does it? You guys now officially owe me 20 cartons of Dunhills and free meals whenever I feel like it. HAHA!

I'd love to say: Back to Anatomy right now, but no, it's back to cigarettes and MORO for me.

Ciow