The Last Blog Post about her Part 4 "readers, I am going to tell you who I really am…"

Fuck technology

Fuck Internet

Fuck social media 

Fuck Facebook 

Fuck instagram 

But most of all fuck me for discovering your pictures on instagram

These days, there are just so many ways to stay connected to a person and yes, there are just as many ways to be haunted by one. 

It took me more than 5 years to wipe my slate clean of you but it just took a tap of a finger on the fucking screen to make every shitty feeling that had been purged from me to resurfaced, like a forgotten murdered body washed to shore. 

Going through every fucking single slide of picture, detailing every single pixel and reading the caption over and over again, trying to look for a single speck of me in those recent pictures of her and trying to convinced myself that, yeah she is still into me. 

But every time I came close, I realized that the person she meant isn't me.  It kinda feels like being covered in warm spit, soothing yet disguising. It is not easy going through all the pictures of someone that you thought you got over. The images just scar your mind and make your fucking eyes bleed from the inside out.  

I went through your 678 pictures twice, and every smile you had on your face is like a fucking slit on the heart; but somehow I have come to realized that maybe leaving me on the outside is probably for the best. What we had was never rainbows and cinnamon; we had to fucking lie to the world just to be together. For a moment there, I thought we could live in our own world and fuck the world and its fucking existence, be completely immersed in each other but our lies caught up with us and we had to face everyone. 

But what you don’t know is that I choose to be the villain; lied to you, broke your fucking heart and sold my soul to the devil, just so that I could take the fall for you. 

I was the obnoxious customer sitting on at your counter that turned into your lover and now someone you fucking despite. 

It’s been 3 years 65 days and counting, since we last uttered a single word to each other. And not to be an “optimist” but I do foresee that it will not happen anytime soon or very likely we will never speak again. I just have to live with the fact that I am completely severed from who, what and where you are.   

But on quiet nights like this, these eyes of mine will never stop its rapid movement, dreaming about the what ifs and might have could have been…

If I could only be your greatest accident and not just a needle wound at the tip of your finger that you could hardly see.  

If I could only be the most excruciating pain you feel inside and not a tiny rash at the back of your palm, itch today gone tomorrow.

If I could only be your trusted confidant that you go to and not a faceless prowler that lurks on every single social media you sign in.

If I could only be the head that lay on your breast and not the greatest mistake that hang heavy upon your chest. 

Today my dear readers, I am going to tell you who I really am…

I am an apparition who got his heart broken because of a girl

I am the nobody who couldn’t be with the love of his life 

I am a pariah who took all the blame for a girl  

I am the desolated who is hated by the girl he loves

I am just like the millions out there who just refuses to move on, making the heart a tomb where our affection for that particular someone that we couldn't be with, lay cold and in decay 

This blog right here has always been a place for me let out these silence screams;  

But this is where it all ends…

FIN.

• The Last Blog Post... Part 3 This is the Fear That I Have Rehearsed 
• The Last Blog Post... Part 2 I am Who I am Because of You
• The Last Blog Post... Part 1 Four Letter Word

The Last Blog Post... Part 3 - This is the Fear That I Have Rehearsed

 that I have rehearsed so many times in my fucking head.  

The fear of having to undo, unwind,  unbend,  uncoil,  unfurl,  unravel,  unreel, unroll, untwine, untwist this buildup feelings that I have for you. Tearing down every inch of my emotive feelings and lingering cravings that my soul yearns for what you have and may become.

This isn't brand new; I am sure you have all heard this giddy love story one too many time.

This homemade love disease that has rendered me crippled; transmitting its baneful touch from my inside out.   

But today I choose to never want to feel your claws trying to break through this solitary confinement that keeps me from you.

I know I've done it to myself the day I opened my floodgate and all I feel is you gushing into me.

But how can I still love you when I don’t even dare to love myself?

To be continue in part 4

The Last Blog Post... Part 1 – Four Letter Word

Fuck, it’s been raining so much these days; I've forgotten how it is to feel dry. 

It must been the cold of the evening breeze that has brought the entire gloom of the fucking night  right back into this amnesia heart of mine; making my fucking heart bleed like it is some kind of vagina during its menstruation.  

Yes, tonight is the night where my spirits is destined to fall like how the sun did tonight. 

And the silver screen inside my fucking head keeps repeating the scene where everything we had and were came crumbling down; the part where you twist and turn, then left without even looking back. This cold and quiet night is letting me relive that every moment and split second in stunning high definition.

There were 100 things I could have said to make her stay.  Even though 99 of them were just lies to prolong the inevitable and kept that brief moment alive, just so I could have her for little longer to satisfy my male genitalia needs. 

But I choose to be a fucking mute as I watch her slip and slide out of my door and out of my fucking life. 

You know, that one thing that got us started at the first place was a 4 letter word 

 And now the one thing that could make her stay was also a 4 letter word

But I’m disgusted with love and what love makes me do.
I can never abide to what Love wants of me.
To me, Love is the filthiest four letter word.
Love fucking ruins everything
So, fuck it.  

 [long pause]

God, I fucking hate this emotional menstruation that turns my heart into some fucking ladies part that fucking bleeds out. 

[longer pause]

I think I am going to go drown myself in some whiskey before I stench of a used overnight maxi-pad.




To be continue in The Last Blog Post part 2

A Far Cry Beneath This Weary Heart

"I'm over her"

... is probably the purest variant of self denial ever known to men. I don't blame the low life fool who does that to his own wretched life because I was once in his pathetic shoes.

That makes self denial the best form of masturbation that we all yearn after we crash and burn in a love story that sank faster than the fucking Titanic.

The manual stimulation of your pride for your over-rated dignity.

Yes, our pride is somewhat like a genital that needs to be pinch, rub, lick, stroke, suck and whatever freaky stuff you fucking do in the shower that you think we don't know.

But when the pleasure is over and when it's time use the paper toilet, that’s when we fucking realized that we're just kidding ourselves.

Masturbation is fun but it just ain't the real thing.

I was fucking minding my fucking business and doing my fucking dirty deed when in a fucking instant I just fucking realized that I was in that “familiar territory”. What if today is the fucking day that I fucking bump into her?

What if she is with someone new?

Could be her brother or father or an ape dressed like a man.

What if she’s wearing a fucking ring?

She probably bought it to scare away them horny pursuer

What if she is carrying a baby?

Probably a lost kid she found near the vending machine.

An endless array of what if’s swirls inside my fucking head as self denial mind try to strategize how am I to react if I really come face to face with the devil and all of her splendors.

Maybe when I see her coming, I should pretend to be talking on my cell and use it to call my other cell phone, so that it would appear that I have fucking moved on and my hectic life leaves no space for her. What do you mean pretend? I am that fucking busy and my saturated life doesn’t even have a place for a speck of dust. I have places to go to and come back from.

But every time a someone that looks like her comes near, I swear my heart wanted to popped right outta its socket. But as soon as I realized that it wasn’t her, my balls would unravel and I would chuckled at my foolishness. I secretly let out a sigh of relief.

Seriously, there is no fucking way; she would fucking bumped into me, alone, pigging out in a KFC outlet with my mouth and fingers so greasy that it would put any Chinese food to shame.

I would rather die than be caught in that fucked up situation.

I died that day.

There she was standing in front of me, looking different but still the person I adore. The ring, the child and the someone new came true like they were some sort of biblical prophecy.

My self denial defense mechanism was telling me to pick up my cell and call myself but I seriously doubt it’ll be convincing.

The masturbation has gotta stop.

I'm the paralyzed soul

I’m the crippled love

I’m the loathsome low life that has awakened up from all pinching, rubbing, licking, stroking and sucking. What kind of heart would I have if it doesn’t look back? I must admit that I really never had the choice, when it came to her.

She smiled and they walked away, leaving me and my greasy mouth & fingers, petrified. Staring at my half ate fried chicken, I really cannot remember a time when my favorite food in the world would be so tasteless.

Is this closure or just a chunk of my flesh being torn away? If only she knew that I am still trying to put one foot in front of the other, step away and get on with my worthless life.

So Nice to See You Again

It could be the bitter wind from afar that brought us here. I’ve never thought that I would ever be the one who would be out of words but somehow the frozen fear took over me as I never ever thought that I would come face to face again with someone that I would give up my very soul; someone who I would have given up everything; someone who I left…



I‘m so sorry if I never told you that it was so nice to see you again, even though you looked different than before but you are still the person that I adore.


You know, I’ve been saving all these words and feelings for us, for one last miracle but now I am not sure anymore. Knowing that you are still with him and it haunts me every single second, I don’t think I can go through with it.


You might think that I’m a cold blooded person now, that’s because I am all out of love but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember our past. I’m sorry for leaving a bitter taste in your mouth but you know it is for the best.


I don’t know if this is closure but I really mean it when I said...

HELLo tHERE

They say hell is not a place but a form of revenge; for every damn ounce of joy and pleasure you reap without sowing, an ounce of pain and suffering will be added into your account and it will be pay in full in our afterlife. But somehow I feel like my toll is being paid in advance here.



It’s one of those days where you fucking realized that you are actually swimming in the ashes of what you call your life and you feel that your anguish that has been stored in your unconsciousness, slowly slip and slide back into your fucking system again. The pain is raising; the hurt resurfaces; just like pouring salt into an opened wound, the floodgate is opened again and in a matter of minute you’ll be drowning in your sea of sorrows.



Feeling like I am buried alive in a Tibetan Sky burial; every inch of my flesh, every ounce of my entrails are being pecked away by them fucking vultures, even my bones are ground and are feasted upon. Every inch of me is being tormented, breathing is a burden and death is actually is release.



But as I look up the night shattered sky I finally realized something, what is happiness without sadness? What is pleasure without pain? Without one of them, the other really means nothing.

Over You

He says it’s so loud here yet it has never been so much quietness inside his hollow and emptied out soul that has just been left so vacant that even any spirit would haunt. He's tried from all the fucked up things in his life that has come undone and now he tries to take refuge under the shadow of this world's scorching sun. Yet he realized that there is just no escape from this tormenting silence inside of him.


He likes writing and watching the sun as it hits her long silky hair; she likes talking and listening to him serenades while it rains outside.


Now they're not talking because of his mistakes.



He lied, lied, lied.




..and it is killing him that he can't tell her the truth. So he is writing these bottled up feelings for her on a little piece of paper and hoping someday she might find. For now, he'll hide it behind something, so they won't look behind...


“I painted our room late at midnight, so that I'll know that yesterday was over. I've placed all your books on the top shelf. I took down our pictures from the walls and wrapped it in newspapers. But in all of these, I 'm still feeling caged up inside here, and I'm hoping that maybe one day you would finally come around. I really wish that this could have been any other way than this. But please forgive me for I just don’t know what else I can do.”

The Break

Scarred by the violence of change; charred by this sentimental break. I hear her start the engine but I looked the other way. Suddenly I feel the weight of the world rest upon my breaking back. Is this what I really want? Am I going to regret this? I twist and turn to try to catch a final glimpse of her but it was too late.



She’s gone.


Moments ago, she pulled over and waited at my porch.


You know, there was a time where I would have given up a limp just to have her here but today… today her black compact was like a funeral hearse waiting to give the one last ride to the deceased. Right now, this ride was meant for me. Walking towards her car almost felt like I was doing my death march because I knew that things wasn’t going to be pretty when I get in that car.


She unlocked the door and I found myself stepping into her office. How appropriate, Black Eyed Pea was singing 'I got a feeling…' on the car stereo; she reached down, muted the stereo, looked at me and demanded an answer. But all I could give her was the same old reasons that I gave her the first time and the second time we broke up - “It’s everything.” She wasn't buying it and she was not backing down. I had to put an end to this, no matter how fucking ugly this is going to get or else there will be chorus of these uncalled for visits and confrontations.


So I decided to lie; I turned into a fork tongue and I lied as hard as I could. Ruthless sentences that starts with “I don’t …“& “I’ve never…” joined in the foray. Words once spoken can't be taken back. I knew this and I was ready to accept whatever consequences. Right now to her, I’m the worst person in this world, I was the ultimate asshole. But it’s alright, if it means that her child now has a full time mother and if she doesn't have to divert her attention and affection on a fucking low life adulterer like me, I would gladly bear her loathe and disgust.


As much as my words and actions would hurt her, she will never comprehend the pain that I bear inside; it hurts even more when you have to lie and hurt the one you love. Every part of me says that it was the right thing to do but somehow there’s just this lingering aching pain inside of me that is slowly eating me up like cancer. I feel like I’m breaking from the inside.


I loathe myself so much right now I can’t even bear looking at myself at the mirror anymore.


I'm having the worst headache; I need more pills right now.

Writings 10.09.2009

Just a year ago, my night reeks of intoxication and fornication; but now it’s quiet; it’s cold; It is like a place beyond an angel’s warmth and I am still on my sick bed and I am sitting here talking to myself. I am here trying to figure out why and how can I be talking to myself when I am only one person? Is there another me inside of me? If the other person inside of me is still me, then tell me why is the other me is constantly in disagreement with me?


I think that every human is a schizoid with multiple personality because we have a heart and a mind that always contradicts each other. Why do something that feels so right can be so wrong when you think about it. I am sure that many of you have experience the pain of wanting something so bad but your mind tells you that you shouldn’t have it or you think you should do something but you feel you should not do it. Especially when it comes to relationship, loving someone can seems so right but after putting much thought and logic in it, instead of being together the answer that you are left with is a goodbye. Why are we made with this huge flaw in us that always gives us the two extremes of something? Why are we are not spare of the decision maelstrom? Many times when we acted on one of them, but it will leave us questioning ourselves of what that could have been and it will end up as an item on out grievance’s list.


Is this what they call Free Will or is it just a constant battle between the heart and mind?


I call this madness. I call it Schizophrenia. I call this God’s greatest creation that comes with a manufacturing flaw.


Fuck, why do we always have to decide which voice inside of us that we want to keep alive?

Disk Space is Low

Where does the pain go when it is gone? Forgotten like ancient history? Does it disappear into thin air? Or does it slip into our unconscious mind and lay dormant inside of us, waiting to resurface again. Most of the time, I think pain has a sick sense of humor and it likes to fuck with you; it’ll pick the worst time to make its grand re-entrance; it loves to get you when you're off guard, snap you in the ass and kick you while you're still down on the floor.



Or maybe our unconscious mind is like a hard disk with limited capacity. As more and more pain gets written and stored in it, eventually it would run outta space. Ever tried forgetting one pain but all you get is the reminder of another? May it be in the form of a dream or just a déjà vu or maybe a song that hasn't been sung for a long time? When your hard disk space is running out, your pain will raise again. Three decades of storing and now I think my hard disk space is finally running on low. It’s all coming back to me in the most peculiar way.



So what the fuck should I fucking do now? Sometimes I wish it was as easy as going for a disk upgrade…

So here’s another new portable terabyte of hard disk that I got today to replace the hard disk that was stolen while I was in Lhasa, Tibet.

But we know it ain't that easy, don't we?

Breakfast at KowLoon (Retro 09/16/09)

Man steps through the doorway, he is greeted and seated at the corner; his thoughts momentarily focused on what he wants and then his desires are then transferred to a pre-printed leaflet by a series of ticks and later converted into milk tea and a scramble eggs cheese sandwich. As the ration makes its way to his table, he couldn’t but to smile because for now, at least some of his wishes has come true. He picks up the teaspoon set beside the cup of Milk tea and stirred it not more and not less but 29 times. No, he doesn’t have OCB but it is just one of his habits that he never wants to break because someone close to him used to say that it would build up his patience as it would make him slow down and ponder.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7…


“I knew her for months but we never really talked at the beginning. The only things I know about her are from her blog and her social network pages. Stalking her? I wouldn’t believe it to be so because I was just going through readily available information. We talked a fair amount of times but still I don’t seem to be able to get through to the side of her world. Sometime we could talk and talk and talk but in the end, we only have more questions than answers. But sometimes, our conversations are short but it leaves me feeling connected. At times I would be thinking about her all day, wondering what she is doing and just thinking about the what and could have might have been if she was right here, right now. But on days like these, I find myself feeling distanced and indifferent. I would rather lift up all my draw bridge, braced my gates, thicken the walls and build a moat around me then try get to her on the other side. You know things could be worse but for now…”


…25, 26,27,28,29


He knew that in less than four months, he will not be doing it 29 times anymore but 30 times. He lifts up his milk tea and finished its lukewarm content in an instant, leaving the cheesy egg sandwich half undone. And like a man who had just have his daily shot of a hundred dollar hooker or maybe a guy who just has just felt his girlfriend’s silicon humps- "satisfied but empty," he walks up to the counter to pay the exact change of $HK29 and then leaves through the same doorway he came in and vanishes into the busy street of Kow Loon and finding his way back to his service apartment in Sai Kung.

Smile

It was almost 30'C, yet I was frozen stiff, down to the very core of my spine. I was shivering. What is worse than facing the hard cruel facts? The anticipation and the almost stand still wait for it.


Every minute was like an eternity and a day.


My day started going wrong when I drove head on into a street that had two consecutive breakdowns and an accident, then I made a wrong turn that led me to the loading area instead of getting into the hospital’s emergency pad; I wasted a good hour getting out of the mess. When we finally arrived at the hospital’s emergency and just when I was about to let out a sigh of relief. I was asked to park my car somewhere else which then I spent another hour hunting for it. Later, I had to walk almost 500m to get back to the emergency area where I left my dad. My knees were wobbling, my eyes were bloodshot red and I haven't sleep for 30 hours (36 hours now). This was the longest day of my life. I was no longer running on physical endurance but my will was the only thing that is fueling me.


I wouldn't mind if I had to go through all of that again if the report that came out is favorable. But everything we dreaded and all the worst case scenario we ever thought of had to materialize. It was one big bitter pill that I had to swallow. To watch the medical stuff put the cables, clips, hose & needles on my old man hurts but it doesn't hurt as much as watching how fragile my dad has become. All these accelerants have been added to the flame that is now burning me and I was like a victim that has been run over twice by hurricane Katrina. I was at the edge and I could breakdown anytime.


Deep down, I know I had to suck it in and be tougher than steel because I’m the only one that my dad has and my dad is the only that I have left and I will not stand to see him fade away like the others before him that were close to me.


Troubled and stiffened, I sat alone waiting outside the treatment room, I was exhausted by all the blow that today's bitter ordeal has lashed out on me; all the blows that I’ve received today were way below the belt.


Then I saw a nurse with a thick file walking right up to me and I thought to myself, one bad news after another, is this the devil coming to deliver the final blow? If so, so be it, do your worse.


But without a word, the nurse just gave me a smile and walked away.


I have never thought that such a simple gesture would set such a massive reaction inside of me; that smile has given me will and hope again. I don’t mind if what you are thinking right now is just how pathetic and needy I have fucking become; after all that I have been put through, I was reduced to a person that was running on thin faith that was on almost empty; I was so desperate for some comfort, any form of comfort that even a smile from a total stranger was like precious gold, incense or myrrh; that smile was the best gift anyone could ever give a person who is broken down, beaten up and at his lowest of low.


I swear I’ll never forget that smile.

The Fall

Tonight I hit a new height at the lowest end of rock bottom.



When I said I was happy clearly it was my temporary insanity that has taken over and clouded my brain and vision, creating this faux hope and it wrought into a fictitious promise of a new dawn for me. But the truth is always penetrating; it reaches even to the furthest untouchable darkness to reveal things that you always try to hide. No matter how tight you close your eyes or seal your ears, eventually there is no escaping from it. That is why the things that you will always find are the things that you try to hide.



This blog right here, the one you are reading right here, this is my life, this is me. As sick and repugnant it may be; it is still me. It is a place where I can come clean with myself. No longer have I need to put on a mask or try to hide the millions of horrid thoughts that goes in my head. This is where I let my demons loose here. My thoughts, my feelings and my insanity slither inside the very vein of this blog; you know this is the era of seditious blogs, intended harm and malice to poison and defame others. Well, this blog is seditious too but the only difference is, it is only to defame me. Call it self-loathing, but to me self-loathing is a virtue because it teaches me to be who I am and not what others want or expect me to be. There’s no sunshine, rainbows and cinnamon here, all I have is a broken tale of a derange man to tell.


Sometimes I wished that I could have a better story to tell, I wished I could have a normal life and be labeled as normal and acceptable like the rest. God, believed me, I tried to change but the more I change the more I feel that I am living a fucking lie. If it means to be dislike and be desolate for standing up to what I believe and what I am, I would gladly give up this popularity contest and take my place as a pariah - an outcast from all. Sometimes I feel like I am not even good enough to be looked upon; in fact if God was alive, he probably would hate me anyway. The best thing is I don’t have to utter FML because it has already been fucked up so badly it could not be fuck anymore. So go ahead and tell me how great your life is and is going; I will not envy but I will greet you with a smile and tell you how contented I am with my fucked up life in my totally flawed existence.


Now that I have stray back into the darkness, I think it is also a good time to announce that I will be going on a hiatus. I don’t know for how long but three years have I’ve blogged unceasingly and I think it is time that I should take long break. Besides, I think I have been too much of a sloth lately and this vagabond needs to fulfill his wanderlust. So I have decided to ditch my plan of heading to Egypt but head north to Nepal and Tibet as soon as I get all my documents and papers done.



On nights like this, I am more than happy to let in hell than to break my own fall.


So at the 565th post and the misery, this is last post from India.

The Tin Man

In my iPod: Mechanical Animals - Marilyn Manson
[download]
State of mind: Heartless
Location: Mumbai, India

I'm caught in the pissing days of India known as the fucking monsoon right now and it isn't something new to me because the sky pisses too this time of the year from where I fucking come from. I used to love it when it rains in Kuantan. As a kid, that means there will be puddles of water everywhere and I could catch as much tadpole to torture as I could. As an adult, the hillside is filled with mud and its slippery. It is the perfect excuse to get all dirty and wet while I go downhill cycling. But not here in Mumbai, when it rains, it reeks of garbage that has been long neglected. The water that washes down the roads are basically shit streams of rubbish. It is so goddamn repulsive when you get your feet wet.


So it is just the perfect excuse for me to postpone my search for an apartment and also for a sitar guru. That is why I stayed in and watched as much horror movies and drink as much red as I could, enjoying this part of life while I still can before I move out into the real life you might say. Anyway, I watched this Malaysian made horror flick "Possessed", which stars Malaysian model Amber Chia and all I can say is please do not let her do any seductive dance moves on any movie again, for it is as gross as the transvestite in Kuantan dancing in the streets trying to seduce clients.


While I was listening to Marilyn Manson's Mechanical Animal; I notice that there is a line in it that goes "...If we cry, we will rust." Which lead me to believe that Manson was referring to the Tin Man in the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. You know, I have always had this compassion for the Tin Man. Even though I am not made of tin and chop wood for a living but I think we still share certain qualities.


For those who haven't read the Wonderful Wizard of Oz nor have any idea who this Tin Man is. Let me enlighten you. You see the Tin Man wasn't always the Tin Man but was born Tin Woodcutter, son of a poor woodcutter who eventually grew up and took over his father's business. He fell in love with a girl but couldn't afford to married her because he was poor. Therefore he worked as hard as he could, so that he could marry the girl but the lazy girl's mother didn't want her daughter to get married. She wanted her to stay with her for the rest of her life to cook, wash and clean; so she made a deal with the wicked witch to stop the woodcutter from ever marrying her daughter. The wicked witch enchanted the woodcutter's axe and causes it to slip off his hands every time he cuts wood. Every time the axe slips it would cut off his limps or body part. But each time the wood cutter loses his limps, the tin smith in town would replace it with a limp or part made out of tin. But pretty soon, when all his limps and body is replaced with tin, he eventually became so mechanical and became without a heart. Without a heart he couldn't love the girl anymore. That is why when he met Dorothy, he wanted to join in the quest to seek out the wizard and ask for a heart, in order to love again.


Just the other night I had a talk on MSN, someone asked me why am I not in relationship or interested in anyone? Busy? No fate? Well, I could strike off being busy because that would be the last thing I am now. No fate? Initially I thought it could be but thinking back, it wasn't that because I have met incredible ladies that could easily flip me head over heels. I guess the thing with me is that I am pretty much become a tin man myself. Some time back then, I have pretty much lost it - a heart that is capable to love. But somehow I couldn't agree more with what the Tin Man said " ...I had time to think that the greatest loss I had known was the loss of my heart. While I was in love, I was the happiest man on earth; but no one can love who has not a heart..."

xniquet's journey across India

An Exit from this Emotional Abuse

In my iPod: Open Eyes - Saliva [download]
State of mind: Broken down
Location: Between Bhopal and Bangalore, India

As you can fucking see, I have been a little short on words these days because I am refraining from blogging or should I say exposing myself too much. I am just a little too connected to my emotional right now that I think it has taken the best of me, influencing my thoughts, actions and fingers that I fucking used to type this fucking blog. This time of the year has always been a hard period for me. So many dates and anniversaries that just seem to be adding salt to this fucking wound. Yeah, you might say that I fucking turned into an emotional wreck comes this time of the year, just look back at the three years worth of blogging materials here and you will find that there is enough emo energy there to fucking light up a city.

Being close to your emotions is one thing but being too close might just make you say things or in this case blog out things you might regret. I mean fuck, I don’t wanna be that person who leaves a suicide note on his blog for the world to see. It spells “Pathetic Cry Out for Attention”. So, this is me hopping on an exit and trying to stay away from all this emotional abuse while I try not to have so much mood poisoning post, at least after I am through getting over this period of time. For now, I am just going to lick India’s ass and fucking tell you what a fucking great time I am fucking having here all by my fucking self, enjoying every fucking moment and tasting the fucking delicious food that this fucking country has got to fucking offer. Fuck man fuck! I fucking love it here ……..zzzzzZZZzzzzZZZzzzZZzzzz

how a hellhole looks like

So this is me, signing off from a moving train between Bhopal and Bangalore. Since this post is about licking this fucking country’s ass. I won’t get fucking started with the condition of the train, the smell of the fucking curry munches and how fucking gay it is to be fucking sleeping close to 4 smelly curry fuckers.

12 more hours to go and if I die before I arrive, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

A-motherfucking-Men

xniquet's journey across India

Look Downwards If You wanna See Me

In my iPod: 15 - Marilyn Manson
[download]
State of mind: broken
Location: Bhopal, India

When a blogger says that he or she has a writer's block, that doesn't necessary indicate a bad thing. In fact, I wished I have one because that would probably mean that my head is empty. Nothing is troubling me. There isn't a maelstrom that is stirring inside my soul, my mind is at ease. I would be fucking spared from a million morbid thoughts floating around my head; my closet would be free of rotting skeletons and for once I could close my eye and with nothing in my head, go to sleep and wake up in the morning without re-living my past hell in a nightmare. But that sadly that isn't so because then I wouldn't be up at this fucking hour of the night bearing my withered soul…

I do not share the luxury that most of you have, that is to have a peaceful sleep at night. When you have been through so much shit in your life, the stain of sadness, remorse and hatred would defile you for the rest of your life. I am like a wet painting that has been molested by the shit of this world and now I am smeared, smeared for the rest of my fucking life.

A lot of you asked me why India? Why of all places and why alone? One of the reason, I have given in one of my post just before I left and this is yet another rationale. I am here because I am trying to runaway from everything that I have once loved.

To feel a million miles away from everything that has make me what I am today. Yes, I am running away from the overly promoted day where you celebrate the one who gave birth to you; I am running away from the thought of the date that I proposed to her; I am running away from my matrimony anniversary of my dearly departed; with birthdays, anniversaries and other day of rememberance that are coming up, I am sorry I don't think I am that strong to be able to stay on and be surrounded by the things that constantly remind me of my fucking lost.

You are right, I am running away from all of these that cause me pain; and if there is ever an edge of the world you will see me there, but for now, India would have to suffice.

20 more days to your birthday and I am already feeling the agony of lost inside of me. My nights are filled with my favorite dreams of you that will only leave me a broken and torment man in my waking moments. I thought being away would ease this pain yet my melancholy has reached new heights, my requirement for painkillers has risen, my alcohol dependency has peaked, my suicidal tendency has never been so high and I am at the lowest of low in my fucked up pathetic motherfucking life.

If you think you are already at rock bottom, take a look downwards and you will see me there.

xniquet's journey across India

Euthanasia

In my iPod: Armageddon it - Def Leppard
[download]
State of mind: tormented
Location: bed, Home

I know I have been all big on jive talking about how I like to see blood and violence everywhere. How I fucking enjoy watching people get fucking butchered and mutilated beyond recognition; the more painful it seems the better it looks on the screen. With today's CG everything looks so fucking real and it just pure bliss watching people die a horrible death in movies. Even though I like to see it on my TV but seeing and smelling the real thing and watching something that is slowly losing its mortal coil and existence is a whole fucking thing.

Who have ever have guessed that a fucked up queer nut case like me would ever have a single tinge of compassion. But seriously I think I have more compassion toward fluffy animals than the human race but I have not put to that test yet. Only time will tell.

It was the fucking afternoon and I just got my dosage my daily MSN and Facebook needs and was driving back home from my studio. It was rather jam than usual and this don't fucking happen much on a scorching hot Saturday afternoon. (The motherfuckers in Kuantan are like sloths; they would rather stay home and turn up their air condition to the fullest.) When I finally came to the spot where the slow down incurred, I saw a near adolescent dog laying smack right in the middle of the road with its head busted opened wide and there were blood everywhere. It would have seem that someone fucking run over his head ; it was crying and all his limbs was kick and moving in a struggling motion except for the head and brain that was all over the rain. No one did anything, all the fucking cars that passes there swerved to avoid the dog.

I think the dog has been in that state for more than 5 minutes because I was in the jam for that period of time yet no one did anything to ease the dog's suffering. I could have just do as what the rest of those motherfuckers did, close one eye drive back to the comfort of my home and let that poor dog suffer a long and painful death. But something in me tells me it is up to me and not the other fuckers on the road.

At first I wanted to run over it another time just to make sure it dies instantly but what if, it doesn't and I would have added much more pain to it. So I pulled over, came out of my fucking car. Walked up to the dog and with my bare hands, I fucking twisted the neck of the dog as hard as I could and when it stopped moving. I carried it back to my car and placed it at the booth. I went home all covered in blood I quickly disposed the dog's carcass at the vacant land just behind my house.

You know I must have use a whole bottle of body wash and shampoo on me but I can still smell the blood stench on me. Sometimes I can still feel like there is still blood on my hands. I am fucking confused right now; did I do the fucking right thing? If so, why am I feeling like fucking crap right now? There is this searing pain inside my heart and my neck is all choked up and tears just keeps rolling down for no apparent reason. My fucking head feels like it wants to explode even after I have taken so much aspirin and painkillers. I have totally lost my appetite and I total puke out whatever shit I taken in, even the fluids.

I am in fucking pain and I am curl up into a question mark, please answer me this… Is this what you fucking get for trying to be a Good Samaritan?

p.s. At least now I know I won't excel in a career as an undertaker.

p.s.s. I am really feeling like crap right now, I am not sure I need a fucking doctor or a priest right now.

Same

In my iPod: Until the End- Breaking Benjamin
[download]
State of mind: heading for a breakdown
Location: home

Just like the years before, it was the same gloomy sky. It drizzled when we started our drive and later it only got worse and started raining heavily when we almost reach our destination. We bought the same type of flowers from the same florist because it was the same old me who was given the task of purchasing flowers but instead my same fucking god given talent of procrastination everything that I am suppose to do yet prioritize things that I am not suppose to, had the best of me. We climbed the same hill to the spot same spot where I was at last year, the place where the remains of my ancestors are laid to rest. Well, I think a lot of you would agree with me when I say; there wouldn't be any complaint if the location stays the same. I'll be damned if the grave moved itself. On our way back, we stopped at the same Hai Peng Coffee shop to have the same cup of coffee that I can never understand why so many same old patron come back over and over again for. To me it is just another bitter cup of fucking over priced coffee and nothing more.

Last year

Every fucking thing we did this year just seems so to be so mechanically identical to the slightest detail to what we usually do on every 清明. Same time, same destination, same sky, same road with same pot hole, same faces, same graves with same names and the same taste of coffee inside the same looking cup and saucer every fucking year.

But just before we are about to leave the coffee shop and head back , I couldn't help but to notice that now our table is one cup of coffee lesser than last year. And it was in that very coffee shop, in front all the many unknown strangers, my tears streamed down. Yet I am not ashamed to wear these warm and salty droplets of infinite sadness on my face because I knew who it was for. I was wrong. No, everything about today is just not the same and nothing about it in the coming years will ever to be the same anymore.

0403 and I just can’t sleep. The wheels in my brain are turning, twisting and rotating, but it is leading me to nowhere. It may seem that I have moved on; but deep down inside, this motherless child is refusing to let go, what has already gone.