Master Oil Control Max

This was taken last March 2009 at Corregidor. It’s an island situated somewhere between Bataan and Cavite and it’s chock full of scary ghost stories, forts and tourist stuff from the war. This was by the shore of that island, near the cottages where people camp out when they join the overnight tour of the place. This is how I usually want people to see me.

This is the summer I want to get back to.

I know I’m probably just depressing myself over and over again. I’ve been reminiscing for the last what…eight months? I’m not good with being depressed. It weighs me down and I’m weak against those kind of things. Not that I haven’t tried. Failure just keeps on finding me and I’ve been caught too many times by the folly. I want but…

It’s just angst, I guess.

But when it’s the better part of your short life you’re trying so hard to hold on to, I guess you’d understand where I’m coming from.

I never understood discrimination. Sure, there are people I never want to see in this lifetime and there are those I’m very biased against; they just rub me the wrong way. But discrimination’s just too heavy for me. No, I’m not trying to make a stand against people’s personal opinions. I just don’t get why they have those kinds of opinion against other people.

I can tolerate a lot of people. I don’t mind if they belong to a different race or species as long as they function as they should. As long as they’re into their own thing and I’m into mine and we don’t go wrecking each other’s activities, should it matter that we’re so different?

For all I know, in their view, I’m as weird as a toenail.

I don’t think I’ll ever grow up.

Sometimes, I lie awake thinking about the day when I would finally grow up and it always gets cut ‘cause I somehow managed to fall asleep. When I wake up, it’s a routine. I’m sometimes sick of it but then I figured I’d be clueless when I’m out into the real world.


Summer’s on the way again.

I’m thinking of all the fun things that could happen in that sweltering two months from academic workload. When I think about it, if everything goes as I want it to, it’s my last summer as a student.

I’ve confessed before how I’m not fit for my course. I’m still thinking the same thing. But now, I can’t really let the last two years amount to nothing. I’m going to finish this, wherever this goes. I’m just hoping it’s the best if not the right thing I’ve done in my life.

Of course, this is the calm before the real stress period. Next year is the thesis year.

Guess what I’ll be posting around that time.

Yeah, I don’t understand stuff.

I can’t wrap my head around how hard it is to say something; something so common and almost meaningless. You know, the three words you read almost everywhere, everytime. Which is also amazing aside from frustrating.

It’s not so hard to joke about it.

I can say it and deliver it in any way you want me to (with practice, of course). If I know you, you probably know when I’m going to say it. Or not. I think it’s the latter. Anyway, yeah, it’s so easy when it’s not serious.

But when I mean it, I get tongue-tied. If I were to type it, my fingers freeze. Why can’t I just deliver it?

It’s weird. Do you know what I’m talking about?

My thought for today: meh.


About kyogakura
Bored 95% of the time.

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