With every passing day, each and every one of my friends finally found a job and start a new life as a working, young adults. And then, there is me; still somehow stuck in between reality and fantasy, not entirely sure of who I am, or what I would become. I am just existing for the sole purpose of wondering around like a lost soul, unsure of everything. I am made of everything, but in the end turns out to be nothing.

Just, Bitter.

I think I am turning into a bitter, twenty two years old young adult, who dangerously loiter around her dying social life, at times walking around in circles of deteriorating dreams and living in a fantasy that evolves around her barely functional brain, in hope to hold onto something that could miraculously transform her amazingly dull life into some sort of a joyous roller coaster ride that could once more makes her believe in the genuine thrill of having a young, very lively, adult life.

You Don't Get It, or Everything Else in Between.

found via (*) The Only Magic Left is Art

You don’t sign a contract that legitimate you to an unlimited access of free time and a ton shit load of guilt trip for months when you've graduated from college. Certain people—like your parents for example, because it is that simple—expect you to get a job almost immediately after you graduated because for them, the student loan you've got to finish your study in college gave you this incredible qualification that came in the form of printed papers, and that rubbish is supposed to get you a job that pays four digits numbers by the end of every month.

That is what you get when you believe in college, and probably as a side dish if you believe that your excellent grades are going to be guiding you down the lighted road to an excellent job. You know what; fuck that and all of the shits that accompanied it. 

Hate Them Changes.

I admit that my relationship mostly with my father and younger sister have grown apart lately, and although I am open to admit that most of it is caused by my own foolishness and stubbornness, I also tend to blame everything else that is going on within our life as a family right now. This is how I function on a daily basis; I do things and when something goes wrong, I blame others while still somehow blame myself. It won’t feel bad when there are two sides to blame, end of story.

But my younger sister has taken a liking to turn into the pious path lately and it is because of her boyfriend. Can I be honest—what am I talking about, of course I can—I hate her boyfriend. My younger sister used to be wild, not bad though and she is this person I could lean on whenever, on whatever matter. She is somehow better than me, like a better half in my sibling.

Yet she becomes highly pious, changes her personality and the way she dresses, everything just makes me uncomfortable. Yes, I love that she really wants to change, but this is too drastic for me to adapt with. That is her own path yes, and I admit she has the right to be a better Muslim unlike myself, but I can’t cope with this change.

She ditches our plan to have fun, like going for karaoke because she says it is a sin to sing in public. Overall, I lost my fun and loving young sister for this pious little punk I don’t even feel comfortable to talk with.

And yeah, I hate her. I hate that she is better than I am. I hate that she could have everything at such a young age. And overall, I hate her because she is the reason why my father thinks of me as the trouble kid in our family.

I hate myself for acting childishly, but I am a human is prone to emotions. I hate it when others begin to compare the two of us, saying that she is the better half all the freaking time. I hate when I can’t go out with her without strangers saying that how could I be this kind of girl when my younger sister is that kind of people.

I don’t deal with changes well. I just need my old life back. Screw all of these shit, I am out.

Out of Words, Darling.

found via weheartit

This is perhaps, the most appropriate words I have to and need to say at this exact moment without trying to flip a table or do anything that is rather stupid. I am going to let this one over here, and allow the whole world to know that tomorrow, is indeed Monday.

Life Sucks, So What?

found via AllPosters.co.uk

I honestly can't withstand people who really like to complain about things, especially those little quirks in life that most population in world actually experience. Surely it would happen to everyone, of which it even at times happen to me because who does not like to complain, but seriously. Do you really have to complain about everything that is happening in your life and let others suffer by listening to all that you have to complain?

Let's face the music, life really is unfair whether you like it or not. If life is all fair and perfect, nightmares won't exist, wound and cuts would evaporate, pain would never come, disappointment will never exist, heartbreaks would be fairy tales. Life and all that is going on right now is unfair, but that is what we have to live through every day unfortunately, until the day we die.

You could complain, once in a while. But it would be better if you keep it all by yourself. People don't have to listen to you, all the time. Your problem is what you have to face by yourself. Life is all about yourself, life is selfish. Deal with it, whether you like or not.

I am tired of doing this, because either way this is also a form of complain. I hate myself for doing this, but I can't say it all out through any medium other than this blog of mine. However, please don't note that although life sucks and unfair, don't quit.

There Are Silent Murderers Somewhere, Sweetheart.

found via It's not about how you look it's about how you see
Could I say that this sixth semester is the hardest semester I have to live through in college? It is only three or four weeks since the semester starts but the pressure are building intensively that I do not think it is an option to either die or to simply kill my self before this semester actually ends.

First assignments are usually those simple tasks—the ones I could simply finish a day before dateline, because I am the best at procrastinate and act as if I am a boss to be able to do such things and things like that much alike—but this time it will be absolutely different. The assignments are murderers; I am saying this by mean it could kill, literally.

The first assignment for Radio & TV Production class is that I have to come out with ideas for a television talk show program—which mean I have to play the role of whoever it is who comes out with ideas for a new television talk show on real television. This is the only class I have to go through with a bunch of broadcasting students altogether thus the pressure are high, seriously.

To think I—a horrible almost anti-social journalism student—to have the ability to think exactly as how broadcasting students are able to is simply ridiculous. I may be good in terms of writing but to come out with a new idea for a television talk show is just ridiculous, plain ridiculous.

It goes the same for the first assignment for Media Psychology class. I am horrible in assignments that involves outings assignments—those that needs me to leave my house and do real field works out there in real world, when I am all anti-reality right here in my own imaginary world. To actually see me cover an event and write a news about it—oh God, just let me dig a hole and allow me to live in there permanently.

I don’t think there is a way out from this semester unless it means death. I am going to fail, I could already feel it. It is either I run away or face it bravely, but ends up miserably. Why must it become this difficult? It is these little things that make me feel that I should have not quit graphic design in the first place. Should just stay through the hardship of an art student rather than to mingle with this kind of problems.

Assignments are really the murderers that will haunt me until the very end of this route. They will literally become the death of me—or perhaps my already dying brain cells, because lately I am not able to think properly without fucking up my life even more. I am already a train-wreck; I do not need those murderers I call as assignments to wreck it all up even more for me. 

Now let me sit in my personal corner and cry my eyes out at how I am going to miserably ruin all of my assignments by my self. Everything is due next week—I am so going to die by that time. Or if I am still alive by some miracle, please lend me a hand and shoot a bullet from a revolver through my brain. Make it less painful please, because reality and life are already too hard for me to handle while alive.

Here Comes The Severely Sad Music Video.

This is simply awkward but I really do not have any word to describe this music video—and this is not in the good speechless way. The song is fabulous and somehow reminds me of the 80s and 90s Malay rock ballad my older sister put on full blast through her car audio system but I could not say I like the music video. Everything looks perfect but does FNC Music really have to have FT Island rely completely on Lee Hong-ki? Not even a two second appearance by any other members? Not even just one of them to act as a passer-by in this six minutes music video? Someone should finish the ritual—every member of FT Island suffers greatly in their music video. When will it be Seung-hyun’s turn to get beaten up badly or just die in their music video?

But seriously, the song is good. I mean good as in marvellous.

It Happened Again, I've Lost Count Actually.

found via what the hell
I do not quite have anything else to say because I actually do this every year for the past several years. I am practically out of words to describe my current feelings and obviously unable to sustain my irrelevant emotions. This constant disappointment perhaps has grown to be normal rather than just an abnormality most disregard. Well then, I shall direct you straight to the old post that obviously manages to describe my current feelings more precisely than any other words would right now.

You can read a harsh long rant right here or you could walk away and completely ignore the existence of this part of this post.

Before anyone actually throws hand grenades or shoots me down with a riffle let me state it right over here that yes, I do know that the overall sales counted into the votes and it is quite understandable that this eventually happened. But I have the right to say and write what ever it is that I feel like writing so yeah. It seems like none seems relevant except for my feelings. Not even yours I guess but well, I am sorry about that.

Dude, Thanks For The Annoyance.

found via You Only Live Once
Shoot me or if it make you feel better, just come here and chop my head off literally because I do not fucking care about how you feel towards me. But this is seriously making me feel more like shit rather than anything else. Honestly, I do not fucking care. You can either hate me or do whatever you want but seriously, this is completely not something I should just ignore.

I know it is my fault that I absolutely love to finish assignments during the last minutes—I mean a day before the submission date or like thirteen hours before, something like that—but come on, I am not the only one who does that.

I appreciate it that you are taking a nice change—you are basically becoming the example student who attends classes regularly and does all things perfectly lately—but that does not mean you are have the complete right to say something to whoever ask for your help during the last moments before submission.

Seriously, YOU DID THAT A LOT previously. Need some refreshment with that rusty memories of yours, I assume? Why do not we go back to the days when you bluntly asked me to finish your summary lead assignment one hour before class started? I guess you could also remember the time you ask me to lend notes and stuffs like that several hours before examinations. Honestly, I did not give you the cold treatment like how you do right now. Did I chase away, NO. Did I say no to help you, FUCKING NO. Did I blame you for finishing your assignments during the last minutes, ABSOLUTELY NO.

Then what gives you the privileges to say all those hurtful things when it is MY TIME TO ASK YOU TO HELP ME WITH MY LAST MINUTE PREPARATION FOR ASSIGNMENT BEFORE ITS SUBMISSION DATE?

It is too fucking hard for you to just help me out? Is it hurtful to just give me the fucking notes you copy and do not mind whether I am able to finish it by the next day? IS IT TOO HARD FOR YOU TO JUST SPEND FIVE FUCKING MINUTES FROM YOUR SO-FUCKING-PERFECT-STUDENT LIFE TO HELP ME OUT WITH MY ASSIGNMENTS JUST LIKE HOW I DID TWO FUCKING SEMESTERS PREVIOUSLY?

Dude, this is the first time I used caps lock to vent out my annoyance towards someone and that fucking fortunate man is you. Yeah, you—the former class representative and so-seemingly perfect college student.

I never did say this BUT I AM FUCKING REGRETFUL THAT I EVER HELP YOU THAT DAY. I SHOULD HAVE NOT HELPED YOU AT ALL. I SHOULD NOT WRITE THAT STUPID SUMMARY LEAD FOR ANY OF YOU. I FUCKING HELP YOU AND FIVE OTHERS STUDENTS ON THAT DAY BECAUSE I WANT TO BE HELPFUL AND THIS IS WHAT I RECEIVED IN THE END? Is this how your parents teach you on how to appreciate others? I wish I let all of you got scolded by the lecturer that day.

I SHOULD NEVER MINGLE WITH ANY OF YOU FROM THE BEGINNING. This just hurt so much that I want to literally kill him. I am sorry but I hate you. YOU ARE NOT A FRIEND, IDIOT. You will never be my friend.

Choices Are Hard To Make, Sweetheart.

found via under cover of darkness...
I hate it the most when I have to make a choice—I have to choose between this and that. It always feels as if it is the hardest moment in life to just think and choose. It is pleasant to have options in life but it seems that making a decision is not quite as pleasant as it sounds. I hate to think thoroughly about options I have—sometimes there are more than just two or three—and I always end up making the incredibly horrible choice. I know that everyone makes mistakes but I do not forgive my self easily upon a mistake. I will continuously blame my self.

It is apparent that my inability to memorize the nineteen Arabic lines for a subject in college is entirely my fault. The lecturer clearly gives ample time for us to memorize each line and I only spend a week out of the long period of time to memorize. I only memorize five lines out of the nineteen Arabic lines. I know I should blame my self but I refuse because I am stubborn.

I should recite the nineteen Arabic lines tomorrow in class by nine and here I am in my bedroom alone by my self—considering the choices on whether to attend class and allow the lecturer to kill me for not be able to recite the entire nineteen lines or to just skip class and pretend as if nothing really happen as I return back to class next week.

This should be an easy choice—if the lecturer is not getting on my nerve almost every week. I know it is her responsibility to say things about this and about that regularly in class as to remind us but she obviously does not have to become horribly sarcastic about everything. It is fine if she advices us nicely and in a proper manner but seriously, she could drop the sarcasm. I should be the only one with a delicious treat of sweet sarcasm.

I know that choosing the later option will influence my grade badly for this semester while I am already screwing up half of my grades for the other subjects. I am completely a mess in this fifth semester. I should not choose the later option because I do not want to be a bad example but I have no courage to face the sarcastic lecturer tomorrow and allow her to say whatever she wants about me when I have no space to voice out my opinion.

This deserves to give another thorough thinking. I should rethink about what I should do—should I continue to memorize the remaining Arabic lines or should I forget everything and pretend nothing actually going to happen tomorrow. I do not know anything anymore. Half of my friends who are taking the same subject but in a different class have already given up entirely and my other friends from the same class are thinking about the same option.

Should I really just give up and walk away?

I do not know what I should do anymore. I just want to bury my face in the ground or hide somewhere where reality will not bother to look for me. I just want to evaporate and choose not to make a choice. I want to disappear and allow no one to search for my existence. I do not want to live in this suffocating reality anymore.

Takes A Month To Disappear, Darling.

found via weheartit
It takes me a month of procrastination to actually write something. I do not what I should actually write anymore, that I do not feel as if to come here anymore. I try hard not to ditch anything—I mean; somehow I still love this small space where I am free to be my self.

I spend too much time trying to make excuses to my self—I will not do any assignment because I am probably too lazy to even write the cover page, I will not move out from my bedroom because I do not have anything else to do in the living room, I will not wake up from my sleep because I need more time to sleep, I will not stop my interest in anime recently because it is the only way I do not feel alone in this world—and yeah, the list of excuses will continue. I do not find life to be anything near interesting anymore lately. I am basically alive for the purpose of the human shell that I continue to occupy.

Surely I know that I am probably becoming too melancholic with my own life and I am a little dramatic with the little downs of life but I need to say something—at some point, I am nothing but a time bomb. I am off to explode; I am just waiting for the right time to transform into pieces.

Fifth semester of college begins and here comes the hell in shape of assignments—it gets pretty ridiculous lately with the insane amount and type of assignment. I mean, I do know everyone does this but oh fuck, I hate this. I do not give any fuck to anything relates to college anymore.

In the end, I continue to rant about my life to bore almost everyone—if barely anyone who reads this. I will brush off this melancholic side of my self, which probably happens because it is currently raining and I am feeling a bit homeless to have to bring all of my things out from the bedroom and move temporarily into the living room at midnight to allow my younger sister to properly use the bedroom for sleeping purpose tonight. I hate this, seriously.

Anyway, good night world, I need to put a rest to my self too. Probably the crazy idea to skip class tomorrow would make me happier. Yeah, I will probably do that. Mom, I am going to skip class tomorrow. I do not feel like attending News Editing—the main reason would be that I do not finish my assignment, thank you.

Disappointments Are Not Yours, Not Ours Too.

found via weallhavememories.blogspot
I do not think I will ever be able to understand a person thoroughly regardless how many years it adds up to a certain relationship. I may consider my self a fool or maybe stupid for this inability to understand this type of living creature God creates yet I will never bring my self to fully accept eccentric miens of different people I encounter in life.

Disappointment surely is a major issue in life. One is not quite a human unless it faces disappointment, it is the reality and yeah, even reality it self is quite a major disappointment—not that I am going anywhere close to admit that.

It is perfectly fine to express disappointment—especially when certain something fails to meet expectations—but to continuously express it eventually will hit the annoyance level. Surely it is alright to say what is on your mind or to perhaps, rant a little bit. I mean, to have high expectation on something and yet witness it crumbles into pieces a moment later is not quite a comfort feeling but to saying it continuously feels as if you are putting the blame on someone. You will make someone else feel guilty, even for something that is at no one’s fault.

Here is the thing.

I know she has damn high expectation over the original plan—alright, I do not blame her because obviously I do have my hopes high for the plan to eventually happen—but when it fails, it does not give her the full rights to randomly express her disappointment, even more continuously expressing it. She has to take in the consideration of the other people who has to cancel the plan. She has to consider the reason why someone has to cancel it. She does not have the rights to be selfish and expresses her disappointment in this inappropriate way. She makes everyone else—including me—feel guilty.

Damn it, I hate to make a rant post.

Reality is, I could perfectly handle bits of disappointment. It is fine; everyone is disappointed about something eventually. But to face this kind of annoyance when I suffer the same disappointment but does not make any ruckus about it is not a good feeling. I am sorry to say this but surely you are aware that someone else has disappointment too. You are not the only one, for God sake.

If you are unable to face this kind of disappointment, how do you expect to live a life out there in the real world?

God, I still hate to make a rant post but this is bothering me, when I should at least allow my self to relax now that fourth semester of college finally ends. I know it should not bother me much but I could not stand seeing this disappointment things going on around me when it should be just something anyone could simply forgets. God, why can’t you take it as casually as I do? Why do you have to take every single damn thing seriously?

How do you actually live your life?

This moment, I even refuse to see you, even more to read your name. I do not hate you, oh God, how could I ever hate you—but this is making me feel ten millions time horrible. I am a bad friend, I admit it my self but to watch you drown in this disappointment that supposedly to be nothing in the first place surely makes me feel as if I want to punch you. No, I want to shoot you with a revolver. I want to put a bullet—no, make that three or four bullets—into your brain and instantly kill you. No, maybe torture you a bit would be fun. I want to teach you a lesson about life.

Life is not only about your disappointment.
You do not live on this world all by your own.
It does not work that way.

I maybe the one who is taking this seriously but I do not mind. I obviously take everything seriously lately and if that annoys anyone, well then—fuck you. Fuck this life; fuck this reality if you would. I would not care because this is the place where I am able to say what is on my mind. I do not ask anyone to actually read. I do not do this for the worthless attention. I need to say what is on my mind to put me at ease.

This is rather a disappointment, and look at me.
I do not make any big deal about.
I just create a rant post for my self, end of story.

Final Examination Took This Weekend Away.

found via Rich World Problem
I am sorry for the lack of updates recently. I know I will usually insert some lame excuses here—come to blame my internet connection or probably some lousy assignments that take up half of my time every day or maybe something else that will always bothers me, all the time—but I am going to skip that part and jump straight into the conclusion where I will usually state, this is when I need to announce my disappearance.

For this, I gladly blame the final examination which starts unfortunately, today. Out of all the days through the week, I have to force my self to drag my lazy ass to college and sit for my first final examination question paper on a freaking Sunday. Oh well, there goes my lovely weekend.

I am going to sit for my Feature Writing at one this afternoon so please, if you are reading this—of which I horribly think not—please send me all the good luck wishes that I need to at least do well on this paper. I need lots of luck and perhaps bits of fairy dust. I need magic.

The other two final examination papers—which are for Academic Reading and Writing and Critical and Creative Thinking will be on Tuesday and Thursday respectively before I amazingly begin my awesome semester break that will last until September 11. I fucking love my love; this is with an obvious sarcastic tone.

Anyway, since today is the birthday of my husband no, scratch that—since today is the birthday of the 16-dimensional face behind the amazing Good Morning Bob series, Song Seunghyun of FT Island—I am here to humbly wish this one hell of a perfection, Happy Birthday. Oh God, only God knows how much love I have for this amazing guitarist. Anyway Seunghyun, have fun on your birthday as Hongki already mentioned that your birthday cake will be on the stage during your concert today. I will definitely find my way to meet you one day, so prepare yourself for this crazy fan of yours. Happy birthday again, Seunghyun—and oh, do not forget to eat a lot and put some weight into your thin figure.

Okay, I am done with this nonsense. I am off to take a bath and pretend to memorize my notes. I still hope I could do well—if not well, at least able to answer all question before I could storm out from the examination room. Dear God, help me out. Dear people of Blogger world who I never know but yet still care to mention here, wish me luck.

We Are Definitely Not Rockstars, Honey.

found via favim.com
It is not peculiar to say that I am crazy about a band with five freaking handsome members from South Korea who mainly assume that they are practically doing rock music although I could not completely consider their music in South Korea as rock but as pop rock or rock ballad. Whereas, if they are categorizing their music in Japan as rock, I completely agree—come and kill me, I do not care because listen to Let It Go or Flower Rock, even stupid people could say that are rock songs.

However, it is a bit peculiar for me to say that I am a fan of rock music. I do not really like rock music as an overall—I could not like the genre of music as an entire genre—and perhaps I have the least rock songs on both my Windows Music Player and my mp3 player.

I know I might scare someone out there—some friends or not—if I confess that I am a fan of My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco.

The real problem here is not that whether I love or detest rock music. I like bands—I mainly like people who are able to perform and play their own music rather than just writing and composing it—and most of my attention in bands music is referring to the fact that I am a completely bias and die hard fan of that Five Treasure Island. But I would not tolerate if someone—cough, that someone actually refers to a friend who considers her self without my acknowledgement as my best friend, cough—tells me that I know nothing about rock music and talks badly about my favorites when I do not do any harm against her favorites.

Here is the deal, I have my own list of favorites and she has her own list of favorites. I do not care if she says she is a die hard fan of any rock bands because I would not care. I do not even bother to judge her because everyone has personal favorites. I respect her favorites and I will accept it with an open heart, God blesses my soul.

It just happens that she starts to get on my nerve—by judging me for the music I listen to. First, if she considers her self as my best friend—although I am not doing the same, because I do not need a friend like her, even more a best friend—she will not once talks badly about my Five Treasure Island. No, do not do that. I will definitely kill her, I mean it seriously. There is no need to say that my favorite band is no better than anyone else in the world of Korean pop. That is enough, I mean it literally. I do not need a friend—even if it is only her who assumes that—to say bad things about the vocalist and criticizes the songs from that band.

Now, I really need her to shut her mouth or else I will definitely murder her, chops her body and throws bits of it into some river and let her death unknown to the entire world.

I could take it if she hates the band I like but I do not need her to continuously talk about it. Never will I talk badly about the girl group she incredibly admire—cough, that girl group with so many members who are basically so popular I would not care about it anymore, cough—even when I completely detest that group. I will not try to do something that would somehow hurt her. But does it necessary for her to hurt me by talking badly about my bias? It is really necessary?

Now, as if it is not complete by just talking badly about my first bias, she continues to bash my favorites bands—My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco. Oh girl, she is going way too far that I might one day kill her. Listen here, I have listen to My Chemical Romance way longer than the period she takes to listen to her favorite bands. I am a fan of My Chemical Romance since high school and I have listen to band music way longer than she does. She does not have the rights to criticize my favorites.

She says she likes rock music, okay—I am actually quite fine with that. But is she really does likes rock music, would it be more appropriate if she says she listens to some real rock bands—I do not know, maybe Scorpions (it is a bit more older than our generation but hey, the music is amazing that no argument is relevant when it comes to the scorpions) or maybe Thirty Seconds To Mars (could I say that this band is slowly making its way into my favorite lists for its amazing songs and music videos) or perhaps Linkin Park (my all-time favorite since high school, the years I spend screaming my heart out to all of its incredible songs) or something even more moderate like Simple Plan (ah yes, the times I consider my self as a fan, those times are the best still in my memory) and if she could listen to Tokio Hotel, Paramore or even the all-time Nirvana, that would be even better.

It is rather obvious that my interpretation of rock music is way different than her interpretation of rock music. Well, she does listen to that one band just because she is in love—maybe—with one of its member.

If I choose to listen to rock, I will choose a real rock band. I will choose a music that really reflects rock—hard and loud guitar riffs, songs that make me want to bang my head onto the wall or just scream my heart out—rock songs that are sort of like that. If I listen to something lighter, I will admit I am a fan of pop rock or rock ballad.

It still hurts to listen to her words and feel like murdering her every time she brags about her favorites yet criticizes my favorites. I am a pretender; I am good in putting up a façade to lie. I am still going a good job because she still thinks I am not harm to her life. Well, we will see up until where this will take me, girl.

And now, I am off to bang my head onto the wall with some My Chemical Romance previous hits. I still love all of its songs—even after so many years of becoming a fan. And perhaps after that, to soothe my aching heart, I will give my self a plentiful dose of some lighter rock by FT Island. I need some rock ballads, those songs will never do any harm into my life.

Not For Popularity, This Is Not Worth The Attention.

found via INSPIRING-PICTURES.COM
I do not think I actually start my blog to become blog famous—I mean, I do not have any intention in building up popularity through my blog. I began writing on blog to be able to have one place where I am free to be my self as I am more reachable through words—if you understand what I mean—and I want to keep my blog as a place where I could freely write what I feel and like, rather than what someone else feel and like.

It is not honest to say that I am perfectly okay with anyone who feels like becoming blog famous. It just that I do not walk on the same path as any other bloggers—I do not write to grab attention, I write to express my intention. I do not detest the population that feels like they want to become blog famous—because none of it has anything to do with me—but if the link to their blogs are literally flooding my timeline on whatever social network website I am currently on, it somehow gets on my nerve, seriously.

I know you are a blog famous person—oh yes, I do sometimes click on your blog whenever I feel like I should read the words you have properly written—but to have it flooding my timeline is rather sickening. You could post it once, I get it. You might post it twice, I could still understand. But trying to post it for at least five freaking time, oh you got to be fucking kidding me.

Hands up, I am not the rightful person to say anything about this. I am not judging anyone—even if I do, I will be do the judging all by my self, no verbal need—but your sickening routine is making me sick in the process. It is fine if you want to become blog famous and I do not feel the same but please be more considerate than someone here—I am waving my hand sarcastically at you—does not bother to look at the link of your blog for more than two times in one night. You can post as much updates as you like but is it appropriate to post it five to six times on my timeline, all in one night?

It will be a lie to say that I do not once feel as if I want to be blog famous—who would not like popularity, right. Yet when I discover that some of my friends could actually find this haven of mine and read all the words I genuinely write from my feelings and emotions—it feels like a betrayal. This is my safe haven—this is the place where I could always come back to write whatever I want and like. I do not need people to stalk or to read my updates. I am not hungry for attention or popularity of stats number. I just want to be free to write. I do not want people to judge. I do not want to be blog famous. I just want to be my self.

I could not and might not be able to write to satisfy someone else, ever. I am a person who writes what is on my mind. Why would in a million years would I bother to write about what someone else want to read? I am not calling for readers, I am not seeking for popularity or comments. I just want this to be a place where I could write—putting aside my horrible grammar and vocabularies, fuck them all—the place where my emotions are visible in words rather than voice. This is the place where I feel as if I keep all of my memories and bits of my life—I do not need someone else to read and judge. Even if there are readers—I thank you all from the bottom of my heart—they are just readers and they do not judge me. Do not judge my words, do not judge me and do not judge my blog.

I am not blog famous.
I am a writer in my own tiny little world.
This is my wonderland and perhaps I am still the Alice of this tiny wonderland.

I am not pointing this post to anyone out there who is blog famous. Keep up the good work, dear blog writers. It is okay to taste the sweetness of becoming blog famous. I am not with the major flow; I am on my own tiny world. I am that minority that hides in my own safe haven. You are welcome to read and to share my experiences in life as I do what normal people will do—I will not stay all optimistic about everything. This is a blog for expression and freedom to write whatever I want and like. I am not blog famous—I might never be one, forever.

This is my life and the dramatic effects.
This is my safe haven.
And this is still my wonderland, I am the Alice and I am the only one.

I Would Care Less, I Would Not Care At All.

found via Ooh, but don't mention love
I could not understand the students in the private college I am currently attending—they do not come to class regularly, they do not show any corporation in doing assignments and projects, they do no obey any rules and they actually expect to excel in the final examination without obtaining the NC grade or fail the whole subject by itself. I mean, this is actually funnier than any comedies I could watch.

Here is the drill—I know that this is a private college. We do not have strict and cruel rules like the ones in public universities. But that does not mean that we could practically do whatever we want in our college life, right? I mean, we still have to attend classes daily, we still have to participate in projects and finish our assignments, we still some loose rules to follow and obey. This is college anyway, people.

I do not want to suffocate my life with all these matters because I could care less about your grades. I have my own grades to worry and to take care about. The last thing I need is to take care of yours. I am not going to lose anything if you are to fail. I just need to make sure I do not fail too. So remember, the next time you fuck up your grades and obtain fail, do not come and complain about it to me. Blame it on your self, losers.

If you do not show any effort to make your grades better, why would you expect your grades to magically become better? There is nothing wrong in getting whatever you have paid for. You do little work; the college administration is off to give you little pleasure. I hope you learn your lesson. I am not here to fix your problem. I have my own problems to care about.

The next time this happen, I am not afraid to completely ignore you. As I say, I have my own ugly little world to take care of. I do not have to take care of your nasty little world too. If you are off to fuck your grades right now, go on and continue doing an excellent job with it.

Hey There Lecturers, Hey There.

found via weheartit
I know, God does not always give you all the things that you want and like in life. I understand it better than anyone else that it is probably close to the proximity of zero percent for me to actually have lecturers that I do not feel as if I want to strangle her or him every time I see her or him in all the subjects that I am currently taking for my fourth semester.

First of all, I love the lecturer for the Academic Reading and Writing. I have disastrous memories with my previous English lecturers but I do not think I will have one with this subject. I mean, I actually like her—a lot. She is not as fussy as the one I have in second semester and she does not bore to me death like the lecturer I have in my first and third semesters. I do not think I could ever hate her.

As for the second, I also love the lecturer for Critical and Creative Thinking class. She is a Malay lecturer and a nice one too. I have encountered several Malay lecturers that I actually quite like for the previous semesters and I like this particular lecturer as well. I could be that I am studying Critical and Creative Thinking as she allows us to be more creative in answers we give in class. I am enjoying her class so far—which is a good thing, because I do not feel as if I want to hang my self to death during class. Good, this is actually good.

Well, this fortunate event of meeting all these nice lecturers discontinues the moment I registered for the Features Writing subject. This subject supposedly taught by my favorite lecturer, who unfortunately resigned during the end of my previous semester. This semester, this one particular subject is being taught by none other than the lecturer who previously taught Reporting and News Writing classes.

Oh, hi there disaster.

I will try not to rant or to bash him but I could not bring my self to actually like him. He is nice yes, but the way he teaches in class annoys me. He does not actually teach anything but to tell us stories that I do not actually care. Who wants to know about his acquaintances when I should worry about the notes I need to remember for the final examination. I appreciate that he wants to share his stories but too frequent is not good. I mean, once a month would be nice but do I need to listen to his stories that have nothing to do with the subject I am currently taking?

God, please save me from this hell ride.

I could have like Features Writing subject—because unlike Reporting and News Writing, it does allow me to be freer in writing. I could write in ways I like rather than to bind with formats. Ah, if it is not because of the lecturer, I would terribly love this subject. I am sorry, but at this point there is no way I could probably like this subject anymore. I could already develop hate and resentment towards it.

God, saves me from this ten weeks of disaster for Features Writing class. I do enjoy my other classes but please reduce the annoyance I have to face on every Monday. I know it is terribly wrong to hate the lecturer when he believes that he does no wrong but I could not bring my self to like him or anything that he teaches. Who comes in fifteen minutes late for class and without starting the lesson, he gives the first assignments for another fifteen minutes and ends the class soon after that. I mean, I love to leave early but without learning anything, it is like a visit to the convenient store.

Okay, I will try to calm down and pretend nothing really happen. I will learn to like this fourth semester. I need to make sure I am able to maintain the grades I am currently holding onto for this semester as well. I need to get a hold over things—especially over the resentment I develop for Features Writing. I will like it, I hope so.

Now I just need a time to sigh and bang my head on the wall in desperation. It is probably too late to drop the subject and to register another new subject. It is too late to do any more changes and now, I am off to suffer another eight weeks of pure annoyance throughout Features Writing class. God, please save my poor soul.

Still, if I do not die of annoyance by the end of the fourth semester could someone kindly enough shoot me with a rifle and allows me to die in peace rather than to hate anything else even more?

This Crazy Life, My Crazy Life.

found via weheartit
I don’t know which one is crazier—the fact that I have classes to attend for five days in a week from Monday to Friday or the fact that I have no more time to give my self a proper rest that I will eventually fall asleep while standing up during the ride back home through the LRT train. Okay, I officially announce that my life is completely crazy as soon as I started this forth semester in college.

The torturing wait at the administrative counter has blissfully ended. I walked away from the hell hole with a schedule that made my stomach twisted into a tight knot and my head spun like a top. You have got to be kidding me—I have classes on every freaking day through the weekdays. That is like going to work, as if I love my college so freaking much that I have to come to this hell hole every day. The only good thing in this matter is that this forth semester is a short semester—I could assume this hell-hole ride will end shortly. Let us all have our fingers crossed for that, shall we?

I am still drafting my daily schedules—take the LRT train back home, wait patiently for the bus to arrive at the LRT station, hitch a ride on the local bus to the nearest stop to my neighborhood, and walk like an idiot through the lonely path into my neighborhood with heavy heart. Would someone actually shoot me to death if I do not die of naturally by the end of this month, please? Please make it less painful as I have already live through one painful life for twenty years.

I need to get my self a pair of freaking good shoes for all those walks I am going to go through. Someone please buy me more clothes because to actually go to college for five days a week eventually made me wear all those clothes in my wardrobe. I do not want to be that nerd girl who wears the same clothes every week, seriously. Please buy me a better bag—a bag I could fit all of my necessities—my laptop, my purse, my notes, my pencil case, my mp3 player, my headphone, my other stuffs and if possible, a guitarist with red pants and an alter ego by the name Bob would be nice. Bob, get into my bag. Or if it is possible, get into my bedroom and stay there. Yes, you should stay. I am locking the door, Bob. Wait a minute, what the hell am I talking about right here?

But seriously, I need a freaking guitarist from the Five Treasure Island who sexily wears red pants and live inside a hole with his guitar and sometimes talk random English to be in my life—in my bedroom, right this instant.

Oh God, I do not even have time for my treasure boys anymore. I have limited time to access the Internet, even more to do what I do the best—becoming a fan-girl. I could no longer scream at my laptop screen upon watching videos of the boys. I do not save tons of pictures into my folders anymore. I do not hug my pentastick to sleep any night anymore (okay, I am being exaggerative, I do not do that). What hurts even more is that they are ending their promotion so damn soon. What the hell, FNC Music. They are only back for a month and now you are sending them back for a Japanese summer tour? Why do you FNC people love Japan so freaking much? I need my treasure boys in South Korea, idiots. I do not want them to go on tour and end their Hello Hello promotion so freaking fast. My mother needs her dose of Hello Hello every week. My nephews need their Hello Hello dosage every week too. What the hell, just make them Japanese already if you are forever taking them there. Japan, I envy you.

I miss that time when my Tumblr dashboard almost breaks because of FT Island when they released the music video teaser and the music video itself. Where have those precious times gone?

I need to get my allowance faster—I have Return mini-album and the Beautiful Journey DVD to buy as soon as possible. I could no longer wait for anything else. College is catching up to my life and if I lose this battle, I will lose my pride as a loyal fan girl of FT Island. I am going to die. Come on life; just give me a chance to be my self again. I will not ruin my life, but reality is possibly ruining mine.

Blame This Laziness, Thank You.

found via DollieCrave.com
I should be updating this boring blog but I have not been in the mood to update anything. I thought I should make a post about my amazing vacation in Indonesia but still, I am too lazy to upload the gigantic pictures. I am such a lazy blogger, please forgive me.

Yes, I thought I should make posts about the amazing comeback performances from my lovable FT Island boys but even for that, I am too lazy. I keep on watching their performances but I could not write anything out of it because they are absolutely flawless. Boys, why must you be perfect all the time?

College is set to start and I am dreading over this reality. I mean, I could possibly love it if the holiday gets extended—I do not mind staying at home. I am not going to die of boredom like some of those people from my college—seriously. I love to stay at home and mourn over my lack of social skills.

I have so many things to write yet I am so lazy to even start. I will work on some updates later, probably when the spirit to write returns. I am also busy with my art activities lately, as I should spend more time off the laptop. I will be back soon, very soon. Please do not miss me.