It made me think

Looking at the date of this entry and the last made me wonder somehow if I've been dead and now back to haunt the living beings of his friends...kakakaka.

Well no. I've been pretty much dead; just not buried. Need I say why?

For the benefit of those who'd like to know, it means my life has been boring...no wonder the age of Fin-de-Sicle came about. I'm so feeling it man. Muahahahaha! Interesting right my life?

If you're bored of hearing me lament over my boring life then feel free to either write your own or read some of my friend's blog. Alternatively, you get start facebooking. (Man, has that word become a proper noun now?)

Anyway, I saw the Atonement last Sunday. Rent it from Play. Followed by the Transformers. I'll try to talk about Transformers if I have the stamina still. Otherwise, it'll just be about Atonement.

Atonement...need I explain more? The title is pretty self explanatory right? Anyway, after watching the film it made me think for awhile - note my awhile is usually hours long (the subject of time is after all subjective). It made me realised that I should be more careful when I want to do something. And not to take it lightly. Yes emotions do help, especially when you have a hunch on something but being overly emotional could prove to backfire.

And to not act on impulse, that's another danger. A small matter can easily blow up to out of proportion with my carelessness. To not be callous and insensitive. And most of all, to love.

On another tangent, this drama king/queen/whatever has a talk with one of his friends and a brief text conversation with another. It appears that he has spoken again - made another (to what only he believes) alarming remark that he has split personality disorder!

Wow! Kudos! Brava! Eureka! Fireworks cracking in the sky!

It's not bad enough that he made a claim earlier on that he had to devise a new persona to differentiate himself from his stage persona, to safekeep his name and protect his identity; now he vouched - by a seemingly "sudden" stroke of miracle that has just been bestowed upon his (pathetic) self - that he actually has no real personality of his own to begin with! That his life has been a lie and a game of masquerade! What belied truth to beguile the bemoan (and precipitating) self...in a (chiascurro) moment of sublime reality and fantastic illusion! one might say.

Goodness gracious me, this boy is already fucking mad. Quick get the doctor! Is there a doctor in the house, somehow? Like under the bed or in the closet or something? Quick! Hurry! Rush! Rush!

God bless his soul. He's out and gone. May he rest in peace...

Is this fucker a fucker or a fucker?!

Kakakaka.

Am I sick? Am I really unwell or am I simply being overly dramatic? Any heart-beating and breathing teenager reading this would say it's more of the latter. And any harbouring thoughts of thinking that it could possibly be the former is quickly dismissed as preposterous and labelled as a mean of seeking attention.

Well perhaps I am. Perhaps I am seeking attention. Perhaps I am an attention-seeker. I long for attention. I long for people to take me seriously and not look away after one glance. I long to be challenged with mature conversation. I long to be questioned and probed. To not look at me as this aloof flamboyant gay bastard who prances around like a fucking irritating pest that's better left unattended to! To fling him aside and left at the dumbster to ferment...

I have issues. I hate myself.

Love ya'll