I want to return to the United States.
I despise people who just cannot stop complaining about wanting to return to that hallowed holy land where they studied abroad at a time not too long ago, in a galaxy not too far away; Because these dipshits always say shits like that out of their annoying whiny pretentiously royal asses that could not seem to endlessly compare the worst of Malaysia with the best of whichever bumblefuck country they went to.
I want to return to the United States NOT because Malaysia is shit. The truth is because I am Shit.
I am sick of college and my stupid thesis that I have not even started, I am sick of debates and my stupid debate team that has a non-existent level of intellectual worth, I am sick of living my life with no sense of purpose. I am sick of drinking and partyin' my fuckin' days away. I am sick of not being comfortable in my skin. I am sick of wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. I am sick of you and I am sick of us. I am sick of being so attached to my emotions. I am sick of not having the focus to do anything right. I am sick of not knowing what to do with my situation. I am sick of thinking that my world is collapsing inwards when things are not really that big of a deal.
I just want to cross the Atlantic and return to my apartment Room #11. I want to lay in the living room couch where I can just watch TV and shut the hell up, not talk to anyone, just be pissy and brood over the whole day worth of shit eating.
Crystal will then come back from her theater summer rehearsal, sit next to me and complain about her world. At least listening to her whine about her stupid friends and boy problems will make me forget about my worries. She would give me a hug. She would lie next to me. She would let me rest on her shoulder. And we could all just talk and laugh about nothing but mostly on her silly klutzy behavior; just watch and insult whatever that comes on the stupid tube.
Until Katie comes home. And she will tell us what she have been up to on this hot busy summer day. Which boy did she go out with. What her brother had planned for tonite's rock show. She would definitely invite us for her show at the Dinkytowner tonight. Alot of our buddies will be there. The Melodic Owls will play. I could maybe bum into Corey.
Oh no fuck. I don't want to bum into her. No fuckin' way. I already have way too much that I can handle. So I won't go for Katie's show. Corey is gonna be a real headache that I want to avoid until I get my shit straight.
So I'll prolly hang out with Graham and smoke a pound of weed. That is precisely what I need- Weed. We'll just smoke up and hang out with Chris "Bobo Sanchez" Lathrop. He will be clowning around, showing us his magic tricks and playing on his guitar all the awesome songs that he has been composing for ages and repeatedly played for us at least 500 times in the past one year while we were all stoned out of our wits. And then he will try to sell us some magic mushrooms. I will be stupid enough to pay 30 bucks for 1/8 and keep it only for my personal stash to be stolen by Ted the Mushroom Thief.
And Fred will come home. With lotsa beers. He is always an awesome hang out buddy. We'll just be chilling and drinking and smoking weed at our great porch. Laughing at drunken chics walking to and from stupid frat parties next door. It will just be another day at the house. Talking shit and fuckin' around big time. Fred will show us some of his Kung Fu moves and I will just be too stoned to be bothered but will still laugh at any white boy who does a Karate Chop, Wing-Chun Style. And everyone will join us.
That is when Graham and I will dip low to the kitchen and make us all some awesome munchies. Graham will be making his awesome kick ass Strawberry Yoghurt Smoothies while I will be cutting up the potatoes for some great frying wedges of terror.
When it's all done, Graham will acknowledge our intoxicated achievements by saying "Kit, Together, we can make some Snacks"
Elena will be there. Laura will come. Ashley will be akward. Zoey is gonna be hard 'cos she can't know that I was toking with the guys. But Zoey is always fun. She always do stupid shit like a yoga cart wheel down the stairs on a pogo stick or something. I love Zoey.
It's a happy big family.
I have no regrets. I have no worries. I never gave a Fuck about anything or about anyone.
It was all just about us and doing whatever the Fuck we felt like doing. All of us. All the 28 of us crazy bunch of hippies. All in the prime of our youth. All stupid all crazy.
All in all, I wish I was back Home.
'Cos then I don't have to worry. I don't have responsibilities. I don't have to do anything if I don't feel like doing it.
I don't have to think about my stupid thesis and my meeting with my professor and the unnecessary reports and presentation on my fuckin' time-wasting internship at a shit-making concrete plant.
I don't have to fuckin' debate or meet up with stupid fuckers who can't debate. I don't have to feel that I am stupid because I can't put up a decent debate team that is worthy of any Championship titles. I don't have to feel like shit to think that I have been debating for Five years with no achievements whatsoever to my fuckin' stupid name. I need some validations. I want to be good. I know I can be good. I need to know that I am good by beating the best. And I am not able to do that.
I don't have to think of her and how fucked up she was to be involved with him. I don't have to care that she doesn't care for me. I don't have to care what she thinks, or how much I liked her or how everything that was sweet and cherishable between us seems to be on a one-way trip to the shit hole in hell and I could not help but to feel that it was all my fault. I can't help not to think that she probably does not even care about me or how I feel. I feel like a spent conquest who gave up the land out of my own will but still got the shit bombed out of my people anyway. Thank the Fuck You.
In the comfort of 1721 University Ave Minneapolis MN, I would not have all these shit to handle. And the world will never seem like it has abandoned me. Because in that house, we always keep each other's company. We always make sure everyone is safe. We always think of shit to do and everything else will be forgotten. Or else I'd run to Lindsay's or just hang out with Seth and hurl insults at his parents or his stupidity despity him being a 4.0 student, the most brilliant kid the U oF M Faculty of Agriculture has ever had the honor to educate.
In the United States, everything was surreal.
That is because things were in fact unreal. Problems were unreal, that was why they were always left unsolved. That was never my place in this world. The US was what my fairy tales and castles were made of.
Malaysia is where my reality is. And round here, I have a life to live. Problems to resolve. And a lot of people to meet to not want to live the best time of my life in a jaded state.
I love my country even though it is a pile of shit. Because that is what Life is all about, no?
To whip out the best tasting cupcake out of the pile of shit that you were served with.
Or so I keep telling myself.
I despise people who just cannot stop complaining about wanting to return to that hallowed holy land where they studied abroad at a time not too long ago, in a galaxy not too far away; Because these dipshits always say shits like that out of their annoying whiny pretentiously royal asses that could not seem to endlessly compare the worst of Malaysia with the best of whichever bumblefuck country they went to.
I want to return to the United States NOT because Malaysia is shit. The truth is because I am Shit.
I am sick of college and my stupid thesis that I have not even started, I am sick of debates and my stupid debate team that has a non-existent level of intellectual worth, I am sick of living my life with no sense of purpose. I am sick of drinking and partyin' my fuckin' days away. I am sick of not being comfortable in my skin. I am sick of wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. I am sick of you and I am sick of us. I am sick of being so attached to my emotions. I am sick of not having the focus to do anything right. I am sick of not knowing what to do with my situation. I am sick of thinking that my world is collapsing inwards when things are not really that big of a deal.
I just want to cross the Atlantic and return to my apartment Room #11. I want to lay in the living room couch where I can just watch TV and shut the hell up, not talk to anyone, just be pissy and brood over the whole day worth of shit eating.
Crystal will then come back from her theater summer rehearsal, sit next to me and complain about her world. At least listening to her whine about her stupid friends and boy problems will make me forget about my worries. She would give me a hug. She would lie next to me. She would let me rest on her shoulder. And we could all just talk and laugh about nothing but mostly on her silly klutzy behavior; just watch and insult whatever that comes on the stupid tube.
Until Katie comes home. And she will tell us what she have been up to on this hot busy summer day. Which boy did she go out with. What her brother had planned for tonite's rock show. She would definitely invite us for her show at the Dinkytowner tonight. Alot of our buddies will be there. The Melodic Owls will play. I could maybe bum into Corey.
Oh no fuck. I don't want to bum into her. No fuckin' way. I already have way too much that I can handle. So I won't go for Katie's show. Corey is gonna be a real headache that I want to avoid until I get my shit straight.
So I'll prolly hang out with Graham and smoke a pound of weed. That is precisely what I need- Weed. We'll just smoke up and hang out with Chris "Bobo Sanchez" Lathrop. He will be clowning around, showing us his magic tricks and playing on his guitar all the awesome songs that he has been composing for ages and repeatedly played for us at least 500 times in the past one year while we were all stoned out of our wits. And then he will try to sell us some magic mushrooms. I will be stupid enough to pay 30 bucks for 1/8 and keep it only for my personal stash to be stolen by Ted the Mushroom Thief.
And Fred will come home. With lotsa beers. He is always an awesome hang out buddy. We'll just be chilling and drinking and smoking weed at our great porch. Laughing at drunken chics walking to and from stupid frat parties next door. It will just be another day at the house. Talking shit and fuckin' around big time. Fred will show us some of his Kung Fu moves and I will just be too stoned to be bothered but will still laugh at any white boy who does a Karate Chop, Wing-Chun Style. And everyone will join us.
That is when Graham and I will dip low to the kitchen and make us all some awesome munchies. Graham will be making his awesome kick ass Strawberry Yoghurt Smoothies while I will be cutting up the potatoes for some great frying wedges of terror.
When it's all done, Graham will acknowledge our intoxicated achievements by saying "Kit, Together, we can make some Snacks"
Elena will be there. Laura will come. Ashley will be akward. Zoey is gonna be hard 'cos she can't know that I was toking with the guys. But Zoey is always fun. She always do stupid shit like a yoga cart wheel down the stairs on a pogo stick or something. I love Zoey.
It's a happy big family.
I have no regrets. I have no worries. I never gave a Fuck about anything or about anyone.
It was all just about us and doing whatever the Fuck we felt like doing. All of us. All the 28 of us crazy bunch of hippies. All in the prime of our youth. All stupid all crazy.
All in all, I wish I was back Home.
'Cos then I don't have to worry. I don't have responsibilities. I don't have to do anything if I don't feel like doing it.
I don't have to think about my stupid thesis and my meeting with my professor and the unnecessary reports and presentation on my fuckin' time-wasting internship at a shit-making concrete plant.
I don't have to fuckin' debate or meet up with stupid fuckers who can't debate. I don't have to feel that I am stupid because I can't put up a decent debate team that is worthy of any Championship titles. I don't have to feel like shit to think that I have been debating for Five years with no achievements whatsoever to my fuckin' stupid name. I need some validations. I want to be good. I know I can be good. I need to know that I am good by beating the best. And I am not able to do that.
I don't have to think of her and how fucked up she was to be involved with him. I don't have to care that she doesn't care for me. I don't have to care what she thinks, or how much I liked her or how everything that was sweet and cherishable between us seems to be on a one-way trip to the shit hole in hell and I could not help but to feel that it was all my fault. I can't help not to think that she probably does not even care about me or how I feel. I feel like a spent conquest who gave up the land out of my own will but still got the shit bombed out of my people anyway. Thank the Fuck You.
In the comfort of 1721 University Ave Minneapolis MN, I would not have all these shit to handle. And the world will never seem like it has abandoned me. Because in that house, we always keep each other's company. We always make sure everyone is safe. We always think of shit to do and everything else will be forgotten. Or else I'd run to Lindsay's or just hang out with Seth and hurl insults at his parents or his stupidity despity him being a 4.0 student, the most brilliant kid the U oF M Faculty of Agriculture has ever had the honor to educate.
In the United States, everything was surreal.
That is because things were in fact unreal. Problems were unreal, that was why they were always left unsolved. That was never my place in this world. The US was what my fairy tales and castles were made of.
Malaysia is where my reality is. And round here, I have a life to live. Problems to resolve. And a lot of people to meet to not want to live the best time of my life in a jaded state.
I love my country even though it is a pile of shit. Because that is what Life is all about, no?
To whip out the best tasting cupcake out of the pile of shit that you were served with.
Or so I keep telling myself.
3 Comments:
Did you manage to find what you were looking for back at KLPAC's KL Sing Song the other day? =)
do i know you?
nah you don't. i just so happened to see a guy fumbling in a bright red tee whose blog i read occasionally =)
hope it wasn't something expensive + important. cheers.
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