You are my sweetest downfall.
You are my sweetest downfall. I loved you first, I loved you first. Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth. I have to go, I have to go. Your hair was long when we first met. Samson went back to bed, not much hair left on his head. He ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed. And history books forgot about us and the bible didn’t mention us. And the bible didn’t mention us, not even once.
BRYANBOY LOVES REGINA SPEKTOR! Heck, even Galliano for Christian Dior (F/W06-07 Haute Couture) loves Regina Spektor.
I have to cleanse my soul and get rid of all the negative feelings in my bloodstream. I can’t remember the last time I wrote anything that involves self-pity so here goes.
There is no doubt that I’m the most pretentious person in the history of mankind. It’s fun to pretend this and pretend that. I’m extremely good at detaching myself from the dark void of reality and live in my own la-la land. I always believed that PRETENDING to live in fantasy (no matter how delusional one can be) is just as good as living THE actual fantasy, if you know what I mean. Am I making sense? I hope so. Most people dream about things and not do anything about it while there are some, like me, who proactively chase after their dream and turn it into reality.
Will pretending be my downfall… or is it my ticket to great success?
Answers on a postcard please.
Remember what I said before, work it like you own it, fake it till you make it? It’s fun pretending to be famous. It’s fun to pretend a lot of people know me. Well, when you think about it, pretending to be all sorts of things got me this FAR, which isn’t very much if you ask me.
As much as I want to pretend everything is fine and dandy with me, I can’t put up a face because I’m feeling terrible. In fact, I feel really awful.
I’m absolutely exhausted. I’m drained. My morale is super low and I have little energy left.
I’m tired. I’m dead tired.
Over the years, I dipped my hand in various cookie jars to find out what’s best for me but all the cookie jars are empty. It feels as if everything I do makes no sense whatsoever.
I’m not evolving…
… and I’m certainly not going anywhere.
I want to achieve something.
I want to fulfill my dream (it’s funny cause I don’t even know what THAT is…)
I’m just BORED! BORED BORED BORED!
I’ve been working extremely hard over the past few weeks to finalize my my online shop and I’m already feeling bored in spite of the fact that I haven’t even launched Narcisse yet.
This is how fucked I am:
I met up with a friend yesterday for lunch and she asked me what time I got up.
I told her point blank I don’t know. I seriously don’t know whether I slept or not. It’s like amnesia or something. I couldn’t remember a thing.
All I know is that I worked on Narcisse from 8AM until 12Noon yesterday. What happened before 8AM got erased from my memory.
That’s how bad things are.
I need some cheering up. I need some serious emotional support. Please help me recover from a morale slump. I know I’m alone in "this" thing, whatever it is, and I think I could really do with people who believe **IN** me. I can only play blind to the people who pull me down to a certain extent.
Ok, enough bullcrap. We all know I don’t **really** feel sorry for myself and wallowing in self-pity is SOOO not my thing. I suck at this shit. I’m only doing this to get your attention because I love it.
Today’s Obligatory Paparazzi Shot(s)
Tell me you love me. Email email@example.com or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
PPSS. YOU SHOULD FEEL SORRY FOR ME, ASSHOLE. GIVE ME SYMPATHY! Hahaha!
PPPSSS. To the guy who emailed me last September 13, 2005, telling me my life is "empty", you’re absolutely right. I hope you’re having a ball now laughing at my misery.
Let’s all admit (heck, I know I admit it) that it’s soo much FUN WHENEVER WE SEE OTHER PEOPLE MISERABLE.