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Empty rooms, with white walls.

It doesn't take an empty room to make you feel alone. It doesn't take people leaving you to feel left out. Sometimes, you just don't feel good. And then it'll go away. But in the mean time, you'll get entries like these.

Important things doesn't go on Twitter. Not on blog either. Important things go to somewhere isolated. Secured. Can't be breached. Sometimes, important things go to people that can be trusted. Different important things go to different people that can be trusted. Like recycled materials. All the recycled materials can be recycled, but they are categorized differently. Or something like that.

For me, important things go into writings. That no one else can read. Ha ha. Even if you have THAT person that you can tell and whine and speak everything that is on your mind, would they listen every single time? Tak menyirap ka setiap kali whine about almost the same thing. If I don't whine, I don't whine at all. But if I do, might be the same thing all over again :D


Do you have the timeTo listen to me whineAbout nothing and everythingAll at onceI am one of thoseMelodramatic foolsNeurotic to the boneNo doubt about it

Except about the neurotic part. 

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Sometimes, I hate myself. For all the things I did. For all the things I didn't do. For all the things I said. For all the things I kept inside. For all the wishful thinkings. For all the thoughts I put aside. For all the things I put people through. For all the nice things I didn't do.  Maybe a basket case. A liability. Maybe too melancholic for anyone to hold.  
Sometimes, I hate myself. For all the things I did. For all the things I didn't do. For all the things I said. For all the things I kept inside. For all the wishful thinkings. For all the thoughts I put aside. For all the things I put people through. For all the nice things I didn't do. 
No one will understand. So you'll just be there. Trapped, in your own thoughts. Tossing and turning at night. Trying to be free. A prisoner, to your own mind.