Romaine Lettuce
Yesterday was a gift
Today is a gifaway
Tomorrow I'm bankrupt
Three sentences I loved the most. They were: "The ‘I’ that we confidently broadcast to the world is a fiction—a jerry-built container for the volatile unconscious elements that divide and confound us. In this sense, personal history and public history share the same dynamic principle: both are fables agreed upon. ", and " Sasuke, please come home to konohagakure!!!! SASUKEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I once had a female human I placed fancy on. She was not pretty, but her skin is smooth like snake. A rattlesnack's rattle. We met at school when she became my senior for my first job in this country. After that she brought us to the hotel, where we had our job. No. I really mean job! Employment!
That moment had already been revealed that she had been with someone else. That time, too I did not even think her skin was that rattle-y, yet. Only shiny, maybe. Then we worked together at the same team of buspersons. That was when our relationship stayed a y=n. Nonetheless when we got our shifts shifted to the same exact T, period, our f, frequency of meeting each other and interacting quadrupled. Lambda, λ became hot and I lost some weight. She offered to take me home with her bike, so I did not have to take the 1-hour bus anymore. Nor did I have to wait another 35 minutes for the next bus were I to miss the preceeding. Those were a lot of minutes to waste in my days, and in my days, time was water. In my granparents' days, time was money, and in my parents', water was money.
She also claimed she was single, although just the other weeks I knew for sure she had someone to cry on, who were not friends, or friendzoned. Now I knew for sure she was single and I surely finally had the chance? Nope in a close margin. There was this big wall of separation called "social awkwardness and speak-the-language-of-what-the-hell-were-you-talking-about syndrome, existing in many virgin males and otakus." She made it clear that she was giving me a pathway to her door, and I had chosen, in delusion, the sidewalk which led to nowhere near her gate.
We ended our relationship which never started that day that year in summer.
Nothing much happened again until late September where our non-friendship gradually grew into acquaintance, once again. On winter at school, on one of the days before Christmas at school auditorium where we coincidentally sat together, she saw I was warming my hand pathetically with my Google water bottle filled with lukewarm mineral water from the water dispenser. She gave me a warm green acrylic smiling monkey hand warmer thingy from Japan. I did not read much to it, obviously, now that we were only acquaintances. Although I tended to wonder. Maybe she just wanted to throw away baggage before she went back home for New Year's celebration earlier this year.
March 2nd 2020, and before that but >= New Year
Our relationship grew exponentially. Although not to the impressive extent of more than friends. I think we were almost friends this time. I was then working as Japanese chef for part-time in the same buffet restaurantn where I previously worked alongside her as buspersons, and just acquaintances. She was more approachable during the period I was wearing my chef costume uniform, I meant. Saying things like "long time no see" and rubbbing her shoulder alongside mine just to convey that small little message she spoke with her obnoxiously loud, yet cute voice. I did not read a lot into that, though I tended to wonder, "did she think I'm gay now?" That explained her feminime approach to me. Like she must have done with all her female estrogen-packed friends, or with her friendzoned friends with testicles.
March, I returned from my part-time into the serviceperson intern I used to be with her. She offered me on her bike again, once again ever since a long time ago when we were more than just in a confusing-friend-partner-co-worker relationship, except that I knew this time we were friends. I could be so certain because I added her on Facebook, on her two accounts, which she confirmed twice, on her two accounts. I even went as far as to ask her on a study date on one of our common day-offs, in which she obliged. It was a Sunday morning I went to Louisa Coffee teashop. It was 7:11 a.m. I was studying for my bartending exams. At noon, when she finally woke up and saw my message, she got undressed and dressed (presumably) and finally joined me. I never read into that, but she was gorgeous in her white blouse-y dress with her black skirt. Her hair was short and silky-looking, and she smells like sakura. Her skin is soft like a cobra. Okay. Seriously I do not know how a snake's skin is like. When she sat beside me, enjoying the tiramisu cake I purchased to treat her. She was adorable and I could almost not contain my feelings for breeding. For the first time through that big confusions, I fell in love. Her cobra-skin when our wrists met each other's in tangents, I knew at that moment I had never felt that sensation before. It was linen-smooth, and most importantly addicting. It was the touch I had needed my entire life. I knew for sure. Maybe I should have brought a cobra to pet, or cobra skin, so my life would be complete. My idiotic thought disappeared when she talked to me all about her life, through Facebook pictures on her phone. She thought I did not bother to look into her account. I, of course, had scrutinised each 0 and 1 through all her timeline beforehand, each night, morning and noon. Her obnoxious-cute voice became the only hit music I wanted to listen to. Her girly perfume, or bodysoap, or whatever God knows what drizzled onto her body, smelled heavenly. I just wanted to be with her for as long as possible.
Before all those thoughts set in, though, a welfare system in my cerebellum made a popping reminder that she was already with some lucky-ass dude.
In this world where people praised themselves for your success, and blamed you for their faults, I felt treated the most unfair in whoever up there or down below in charge of matchmaking our human ties.
Of all the women in the world, I cannot be with the only girl I knew I needed.
So be it. I apologized if it was not a happy story to begin with, nor a happy ending to transpire. If anyone, me, myself, and I should be the one with the most heart traumas.
It is okay to be smart. It is okay to die alone. I don't know. How about that for another heartbreaking song lyrics, or a pussilanimous rant of a human with testicles.
In a period of one month, I will find this post hilarious, because as an artist, my logic tells me scientifically that this is just lust and not really "love" or any bull sheet that does not exceeths.
Today is a gifaway
Tomorrow I'm bankrupt
Three sentences I loved the most. They were: "The ‘I’ that we confidently broadcast to the world is a fiction—a jerry-built container for the volatile unconscious elements that divide and confound us. In this sense, personal history and public history share the same dynamic principle: both are fables agreed upon. ", and " Sasuke, please come home to konohagakure!!!! SASUKEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I once had a female human I placed fancy on. She was not pretty, but her skin is smooth like snake. A rattlesnack's rattle. We met at school when she became my senior for my first job in this country. After that she brought us to the hotel, where we had our job. No. I really mean job! Employment!
That moment had already been revealed that she had been with someone else. That time, too I did not even think her skin was that rattle-y, yet. Only shiny, maybe. Then we worked together at the same team of buspersons. That was when our relationship stayed a y=n. Nonetheless when we got our shifts shifted to the same exact T, period, our f, frequency of meeting each other and interacting quadrupled. Lambda, λ became hot and I lost some weight. She offered to take me home with her bike, so I did not have to take the 1-hour bus anymore. Nor did I have to wait another 35 minutes for the next bus were I to miss the preceeding. Those were a lot of minutes to waste in my days, and in my days, time was water. In my granparents' days, time was money, and in my parents', water was money.
She also claimed she was single, although just the other weeks I knew for sure she had someone to cry on, who were not friends, or friendzoned. Now I knew for sure she was single and I surely finally had the chance? Nope in a close margin. There was this big wall of separation called "social awkwardness and speak-the-language-of-what-the-hell-were-you-talking-about syndrome, existing in many virgin males and otakus." She made it clear that she was giving me a pathway to her door, and I had chosen, in delusion, the sidewalk which led to nowhere near her gate.
We ended our relationship which never started that day that year in summer.
Nothing much happened again until late September where our non-friendship gradually grew into acquaintance, once again. On winter at school, on one of the days before Christmas at school auditorium where we coincidentally sat together, she saw I was warming my hand pathetically with my Google water bottle filled with lukewarm mineral water from the water dispenser. She gave me a warm green acrylic smiling monkey hand warmer thingy from Japan. I did not read much to it, obviously, now that we were only acquaintances. Although I tended to wonder. Maybe she just wanted to throw away baggage before she went back home for New Year's celebration earlier this year.
March 2nd 2020, and before that but >= New Year
Our relationship grew exponentially. Although not to the impressive extent of more than friends. I think we were almost friends this time. I was then working as Japanese chef for part-time in the same buffet restaurantn where I previously worked alongside her as buspersons, and just acquaintances. She was more approachable during the period I was wearing my chef costume uniform, I meant. Saying things like "long time no see" and rubbbing her shoulder alongside mine just to convey that small little message she spoke with her obnoxiously loud, yet cute voice. I did not read a lot into that, though I tended to wonder, "did she think I'm gay now?" That explained her feminime approach to me. Like she must have done with all her female estrogen-packed friends, or with her friendzoned friends with testicles.
March, I returned from my part-time into the serviceperson intern I used to be with her. She offered me on her bike again, once again ever since a long time ago when we were more than just in a confusing-friend-partner-co-worker relationship, except that I knew this time we were friends. I could be so certain because I added her on Facebook, on her two accounts, which she confirmed twice, on her two accounts. I even went as far as to ask her on a study date on one of our common day-offs, in which she obliged. It was a Sunday morning I went to Louisa Coffee teashop. It was 7:11 a.m. I was studying for my bartending exams. At noon, when she finally woke up and saw my message, she got undressed and dressed (presumably) and finally joined me. I never read into that, but she was gorgeous in her white blouse-y dress with her black skirt. Her hair was short and silky-looking, and she smells like sakura. Her skin is soft like a cobra. Okay. Seriously I do not know how a snake's skin is like. When she sat beside me, enjoying the tiramisu cake I purchased to treat her. She was adorable and I could almost not contain my feelings for breeding. For the first time through that big confusions, I fell in love. Her cobra-skin when our wrists met each other's in tangents, I knew at that moment I had never felt that sensation before. It was linen-smooth, and most importantly addicting. It was the touch I had needed my entire life. I knew for sure. Maybe I should have brought a cobra to pet, or cobra skin, so my life would be complete. My idiotic thought disappeared when she talked to me all about her life, through Facebook pictures on her phone. She thought I did not bother to look into her account. I, of course, had scrutinised each 0 and 1 through all her timeline beforehand, each night, morning and noon. Her obnoxious-cute voice became the only hit music I wanted to listen to. Her girly perfume, or bodysoap, or whatever God knows what drizzled onto her body, smelled heavenly. I just wanted to be with her for as long as possible.
Before all those thoughts set in, though, a welfare system in my cerebellum made a popping reminder that she was already with some lucky-ass dude.
In this world where people praised themselves for your success, and blamed you for their faults, I felt treated the most unfair in whoever up there or down below in charge of matchmaking our human ties.
Of all the women in the world, I cannot be with the only girl I knew I needed.
So be it. I apologized if it was not a happy story to begin with, nor a happy ending to transpire. If anyone, me, myself, and I should be the one with the most heart traumas.
It is okay to be smart. It is okay to die alone. I don't know. How about that for another heartbreaking song lyrics, or a pussilanimous rant of a human with testicles.
In a period of one month, I will find this post hilarious, because as an artist, my logic tells me scientifically that this is just lust and not really "love" or any bull sheet that does not exceeths.
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