Ah yeah *snaps finger*

I could, publish my stories to another site. Or some of my writings of course.
There would be fellow writers and fellow readers who are there to either spew flaming criticism or probably none at all.

Those writings, in the other blog, it was dedicated to someone who I thought mattered in my life. Now that person is literally exited and with the door hitting her ass on the way out, I suppose that these sheaf of posts should be given to more perceiving, linguistic eyes.

*chuckles* of course not everything. Just the real romantic ones. More like I am showcasing my romantic writing skills, akin to peddling your handicrafts at a bazaar in Central Market, KL.
Just goes to show that I am not limited to mere general, fiction and basically boring excerpts about my life.


The post be in my Facebook but just in case.. I would monger my link here for your perusal.


http://www.fictionpress.com/~monodanee


Happy reading.

I wonder if I should delete the other blog..

or

.. publish it in a public manner and advertise it so the whole world would know about it?

But of course,
I would tell that... wait a second.

I don't think I want to publish it at all.





Deleting it.

Here's a little truth to invade your mind;

I thrive on hate.
It gives me life. It powers up my perception, my common sense to a lot of things.

Or to be more apt, hate sustains my life and made me who I am today. A lot of things I have achieved, with hate fueling my desire like a potent, poisonous drug.
But the problem with me feeling hate at times is, well, it conflicts with other "human" nature of mine. The unnecessary nature of thinking about others, the baggage of concern. It weighs my true potential as I do not want to offend people, or create a strife between us, no matter how much hatred and loathing I feel for that particular individual.

And such conflict, I have found, is destructive.

Two opposite opinions, each in their own polarity, is ripping my sanity sideways. And the pity is that, it happens all the time, most of the time. My judgement is impaired, everything seems to be cloudy, and there is that constant need to talk to someone about your brimming aversion to that individual.

It happened to me once before way back then. Around.. 8 years ago to be exact. I wanted to hate that person so bad, but I was afraid to offend. And thus, this ripped the fabric of my sanity in pieces, turning into a mute shell. Not gone off completely to full retard mind, but it was enough to let people know something had set off in my head.
I wasn't myself.

And it is happening again.
I fear for myself really. I wonder how long would it take before I would launch myself in front of a speeding train, or on electrocuted train tracks. Because,

It is driving me insane.

Only loud metal growls and heavy guitar riffs are able to anesthetize my head from being a full on suicidal psycho. Among that, food and a minimal desire to live.


I am afraid.

Raise my hopes up.




But then again.

With this annoying plethora of emotions that are seared since I learned to speak,

I would always raise my hopes and get shot down.


Again and again.


And life goes on.