24 Feb 2008


Whose to know if your soul will fade at all
The one you sold to fool the world
You lose your self-esteem along the way
Good god, you're coming up with reasons
Good god, you're dragging it out
Good god, it's the changing of the seasons
It feels so great, so follow me down and just...

Fake it by Seether.

18 Feb 2008

The short story of a miserable weekend.

I stared intently at my phone. I willed it to ring. I prayed a little even. Why won't you ring? Please ring. Please. I need you to ring. I need you to tell me that people still care. That they remember you when you don't call. That you are giving them a chance to be the caller for a change. Please ring. Dammit.

Another weekend come and gone as usual. No calls. A couple of insignificant smses. If I don't call you, do you forget about me? Am I so easy to erase out of your mind? Out of your life? I had recently gone to my friend's fest. Ya, I went there to enjoy. Instead I found a gloomy and depressed friend who refused to meet up because she was busy. After that she was in a surly mood. SIGH. Talk about manners. And to think I was invited there!!!

I haven't been calling you for a couple of days. And when I do, you have been cutting my calls or been telling me that you are busy and that you will return the call later. Did you? I really had something important to say. Do you know what it is? How would you know? You didn't bother to find out. I'm disposable. I'm always there when you need to talk come hell or high water. Could you say the same for yourself? Of course not. You would much rather fraternize with the enemy but not me. Easy, am I not? Easy to get rid of. Easy to chuck out of your head. The next time you need someone to cover up for you, maybe you should call your friend of fifteen years. But you won't, will you? She won't help you in situations like this. For all the shoddy work, I'm here, disposable and gullible as ever, because I care. Because I would do anything for friends; no strings attached. Use me and throw me way, break me up with your indifference, maybe the next time you turn about, all that will be left of me, is a hundred little broken and indifferent pieces.......