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its intriguing how a piece of paper can hold nearly every shit you had to go through with your life. if i really gotta thank god sincerely, i'd say thanks for my hands that can draw.
now instead of just writing everything i hate, i can draw everything that kills me.
this is one ironic gift.

sudden urge to burn that piece of paper though. it just seems so... flimsy. i think if i burn it i might cry and laugh myself fucking silly at the same time. man. i am so full of despair and when i look at myself i feel like retching. disdain for myself. art and blood feeds my soul.
i should consider being the first vampire in singapore. aftetall, Vampires will never hurt us.

i wish i could feel your soft lips on mine. its a salvation that i can't just dream of.