THIS IS REAL

This is my life.
An imaginary guitar and a fake vocal miracle.

Mounting assignments, seminar presentations and article critique.
Unit presentation and portfolio.

What else can you do when you are living with your parents and single?
I have no husband to obey or children to attend to.

Pros: I won't have to pretend I like his dick or I love my children all the same.
Cons: The loneliness got so bad that you just want to curl up and die slowly inside.

I hate to admit it and I don't show it.
But I swear every little details and hints of happiness kill me.

After a while, not even a pair of brand new shoes of the smell of new handbag can cure this hole inside me.

I have so much angst and misery inside me that if those emotions were energy it could light up a house like the fourth or July or the thirty first of August (depending on your geographical mindset).

I know I did not dare to show it, to show my true emotions for fear people would think I am a whining bitch (I am in fact, a whining bitch, I hate my body, I hate my hair, I hate my boobs, I hate my skin and the list goes on and on).

It's getting tired and tricky every single day to act like I do not give any single damn but I swear inside, I am just dying for someone to hold me and just hug me even for a split second to tell me that everything would turn out okay in the end (even though it is not true, because life is a bitch).

Do I regret not finding someone sooner (or dumping those sons of bitches who did not deserve my love in the first place)?

Do I wish for a simpler life where back when I was in Form Five, I was not given an opportunity to study what I had studied and became a teacher?

Do I think of what could have happen if I opted for a different course back then and became a doctor, software engineer or a lawyer instead?

Do I regret signing that contract, slaving myself to a system for five years so that I could not pursue a PhD on a full time basis and just have to resort to obtaining a Masters degree?

Yes to some questions and No to others. If this the price that I have to pay for having a decent and secured job (while having to do redundant clerical tasks and tolerating bastards who ought to be kicked out of school), with a Masters degree in another semester time (same old, same old things over and over again every semester),  living with parents where I do not have to pay the rent and utility bills (have to care, cook and sometimes cut my invalid grandmother's hair and enduring my parents PDAs), so let it be. Other people could be thinking suicide under worse circumstances.

Does that revelation shocked you? That I am thinking about suicide on a daily basis? I did before (when I jeopardized my study for one low-life who just wanted me for my assignment writing ability or group presentation mobilizer) and I am thinking about it now and I will be thinking about it tomorrow and the years after that. Every single day. Every single time something bad happen to me. Every single time someone left me alone and refuse to sit next to me like I have some kind of contagious disease. Every single time someone called me names, making me feel unworthy to live. Every single fucking day. And you think it is easy being me. And you think just because I am single so I have no commitment so you can make snide remarks about me.

It's like BDSM minus the pleasure, only torturous pain and never ending suffering.