Sleep will set me free... from senseless rantings.

Apparently I've been too kind-hearted as of lately, and too frank perhaps. Being straightforward doesn't always pay off in this world. In fact, it usually does the opposite. But at least it's better than being hypocritical.

Hate is a powerful emotion. It can be extremely destructive should anyone attempt to manipulate it. Masks grow on people when there is hatred. It is like a living fungus, surviving by enveloping logic and real love, preventing nutrients from reaching them. Attempts to break the mask, if unsuccessful, will only result in the emergence of an even uglier mask.

I've always been a believer of trusting your own senses and feelings when it comes to judging a person. Logic may fail you, rationality may elude you, but your own senses and feelings will usually not betray you. That is my belief. Two conflicting emotions in my mind are clashing, but they have been gone recently. Just like two people who are quarrelling, and suddenly they hear a proceeding parade through the window and stop their quarrel. For the moment, they stand shoulder to shoulder like best friends watching the parade, forgetting their quarrel. For the moment. But the quarrel is not forgotten, just postponed, just like the two conflicting emotions in my mind. Nevertheless, I welcome the break.

The past week has been busy of late, yet I am resoundingly calm. Calm is the mind, lost is the soul, and weak is the body. I've came to a sudden realization, a simple yet brutally true realization. The fear to confront hatred may be the underlying reason for my inability to hate. How can somebody understand hatred without being able to feel it?

My whole existing being is like a whirling dust ball of confusion. Formless yet unbreakable. I reckon if I continue to indulge and delvge into the depths of raw emotion, I'll probably go insane. Curiousity kills the cat, they say.

Hope will set me free.

A simple life will set me free.

Living in opacity will set me free.

Death will set me free.

I need some sleep...

...before I go insane.

Sleep will set me free.

P/s: Sorry Eush, i'm not going to study for audio. Blame kenso if you want, but i know you are incapable of blaming anybody. *smirk*

P/s/s: My mind is in a mess.

P/s/s/s: Muahahahahahaha!

p/s/s/s/s: Shut up.

Ability.

You are afraid to be loud.
You are afraid of being proud.
You are afraid of voicing out.
You are afraid of shining bright.
You are afraid of being put down.
You are afraid of the light.
Yet you detest the dark.
You are afraid of emptiness.
You are afraid of loneliess.
You are afraid of dependency.
Yet you adore companionship.
You are afraid of intimacy.
Yet you seek relationships.
You are afraid of losing out.
You are afraid of feeling down.
You are afraid of shutting down.
You are afraid of performing.
You are afraid of jealousy.
You are afraid of being yourself.

Just what are you afraid of?

"You are beautiful, no matter what they say. Words can't bring me down."

Whatever happened to your oozing charisma and overwhelming confidence?
Whatever happened to your ability to lead?
Whatever happened to your will to believe?
Whatever happened to your unwavering pride?

What's the deal with the strings holding you?

-Libradoll?

Random Muscles

Was there ever a time when u wanted to write badly, but you just had nothing to write? I'm feeling that right now. While waiting for anime to finish downloading, I just have to find some way to spend the thirty five minutes, and the first thing that comes to mind is blogging. But when you simply have nothing to write, what can you write about?

Let's see, I shall write on the first thing that comes to my mind. Alright, pushups. Push ups it shall be then. not the push ups that women use to prop themselves from an A to B, or B to C cup, but rather the kind of push ups that Men do to punish themselves or rather, their bodies, which brings me to a query which is not quite at the point:

Muscle growth occurs to adapt to the load which is weighing it down. In order for already bulky muscles to grow even more, body builders constantly carry heavier weights in order to stimulate the muscles which have already grown used to a certain weight. Well, I was wondering whether there is a limit to how much muscle can grow, as in the size and strength of it. When this particular muscle is constantly exposed to increasing weights, it grows bigger and stronger; Is there a limit to how much it can grow? The answer is probably yes. But why. How?
Let's surf the net to find out!

P/S: Yeah, i found something to do. End of blogging.

Shutting down in 5, 4, 3, 2...*zaaap*

I understand that i am a difficult person to work with.
I shut off and stop working when:

1) I am feeling moody.
2) My project mates pisses me off.
3) I am feeling moody and my project mates aggravates the situation by pissing me off.
4) I feel like gaming instead of working.
5) I simply don't feel like working. (i'm the worst procrastinator you'll ever see)
6) I'm in a dreamy mood.

I'm simply just a freaking lazy person who has attitude problems when it comes to work. On top of it, I only work when I am feeling positive and motivated, which is not often.

Furthermore, I'm a stubborn self-centered control freak, it's either me or nothing.
I choose to be nothing.

For world peace.

The Schizophrenic

The realist tries to speak out but is drowned in the cries of self-wallowing pity by the self-oppressed depressionist. Somehow somewhere the realist is fighting, but his voice now too weak to be audible in the semi-torn mind of Eush. Soon the realist falls back to sleep, and the other depressed being in him takes full control gleefully. He forms a barrier akin to an invisible mental wall, blocking out and guarding against other unwanted positive emotions, like a sentinal who is afraid to leave his comfortable post which he has grown too emotionally attached and accustomed to.

P/S:WAKE UP LAH REALIST! YOU GOT A LOT OF WORK TO BE DONE! STILL WRITING BULLCRAP!

Reflection in Da Mirror

When you simply ain't focused
an' you feel like bits and pieces
you know it's kind of broken

A Wanderin' soul ain no perfect picture
ain't not something someone wants as a fixture

Perhaps sometimes it's all juz fiction
like a book being torn to pieces
At the end of the chapter
we are all just fuckin' fishes
growin' biggie and ending up as dishes.

It's time to wake up your freakin' idea
look at ya' own reflection in the mirror

P/S:Feeling lost rather recently, juz drowning myself in melodies, currently wishin' for some pittance of reality.