Not only Michael Jackson is dead, so is my blog. Why no one suicide because mine is dead?
First things first,
“I am somehow convinced that the poor deceased fella is somehow INNOCENT.“
After seeing some of the interviews done, I believe that people are trying to frame him for things he had not done, poor fella.
Next is, I have few things to blog about. One of it is, I know some of my college mates reads my blog. And I’m perfectly fine with it an so on.
I don’t even care if you spread my youtube videos or any shameful articles to others.
Since you’re at spreading it. Might as well spread this shit to BST 16 for me!
Today would be the first time I really speak to Asa.
[which idiotic names her son Asa?]
[or even gives himself the name Asa?]
As I was saying, Asa is the kind of human who has a tiny deformed pea brain and it doesn’t function!
Or maybe it over functioned? Guess NOT!
What made me say that?
Here’s today’s conversation.
Asa : Hey, you know some of the seniors asked me about your gender.
Me : And?
Asa : So I told them you’re a female
[he's being over sarcastic]
Me : You better think properly before you talk.
Use your brains!
*forgotten*
And I forgotten how the following went, seriously i cant control myself.
I would have punched the fuckface right on his specs! I don’t care if he bleeds or glass shatters into his eyes.
Retarded fella!
And I got news about him, some told me that he’s an orphan.
If I were to spat on his face and talk back, I’d say
” Aww, poor you! Your parents are dead or they dumped you? “
*makes sad pity face*
Lets see if he does it another time, I’ll do the combo, talk about him being an orphan and punch him!
Asa, if you are reading this! You better apologise to me or don’t let me see your fuck face!
I might not control myself this time. Fuckfaces gives me the urge to punch it!
Especially yours, ASA!
Besides Asa’s problematic brain issue, there’s this thing I wanna make it clear.
I feel sorry for hiding this but I had to make it clear. Its kinda bothering me anyway.
All my life until I was form 2, I believe about this thing called “best friend“.
Until I was being stabbed, stepped, pushed and criticized by my “best friend“.
For me, if you ask me.
I don’t believe in best friends, there are no such thing called best friend!
I only believe there are good friends, friends that you can count on.
Friends that supports you, cares for you.
They make things clear before they accuse you.
Those are good friends!
“Best friends” are just titles given to those if you had hung out long enough with them,
Helped them, Laugh with them, Let you copy their homework and so on.
USELESS!
I think best friends are sometimes worst than normal friends itself.
So if you to proclaim that I am your best friend,
I’m fine with it, but did you notice that I never said I was your best friend?
That was because I didn’t believe in it.
Trevor, you are a wonderful caring friend, like money, hard to find, easy to lose!
This might be offensive! But I don’t mean to be.
I’m sorry to say, I don’t have best friends, they don’t exist in my life.
I don’t believe in it.
Its okay if you call me your best friend, I’m fine with that, you’re my good friend.
But not best friend, because there never are any best friends.
OMG!
Its like I’ve become a kid again, talking about best friends and not friends.
But somehow, this is a grown up best friend topic! Seriously.
Another thing is, Semester one is finally ending!
My exam, practical and theory coming soon! DIE DIE DIE!
Last topic before I go to sleep,
This might be offensive too, so I’m going to write this in a metaphor poem-ish way.
I’m a noob in poetry, forgive me.
I was strolling at the park,
On a sunny morning dew drip,
The park is full or florals,
Tulips, Dandelions & Chrysanthemums,
You name it!
As the fields are carpeted with green grass,
The sniff of the morning air,
Enlightens my soul,
Looking at the beautiful roses,
One badly bruised but still lovely,
I picked it up but made it worst,
Took it home and kept it on a glass vase,
As I sat on the table over a cup of coffee,
Glazing at the rose I picked,
Only to find myself covered with the buds of the dandelion!
With a swift of my hands,
I pulls it buds off, but the air kept em coming,
And it keep sticking on me.
Help is what I needed,
The rose is what I needed,
Does the rose response?
Help me get the dandelion off me.
I don’t like dandelions!
They stick too much on me.
- Jovi -
SERIOUSLY! DANDELION, GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!
I like roses, not you! Cheap flower!
