Thoughts of an unemployed

"I'm now theoretically unemployed."
"No you're not, you're a college grad."

I really hate being a jobless useless parasite. I know what I'm supposed to do. I have exactly 13 days to guitar exam. Grade 8 is not easy. I didn't touch aural. I'm completely doomed. My fingertips skin hasn't grown back yet. I need them there for me to practice for hours, madly. I need those thick skin, man. Now every time after a short break, it forces me to have this small preparation for incoming pain. As a guitarist. It still hurts. Yes. Maybe just for a terrible guitarist who has no damn hope but still aims for high distinction. I'm a fucking piece pf shit idiot. Mr Fung's a lot more worried than I am. I am worried, when I realized I couldn't play my third piece. It's a hard piece. Full of bar chords, that requires a lot of fucking stamina. I pressed hard. There was still no sound. I'm totally fucked.

I tried. I picked up the guitar, I played, I swipe my phone a little, I continue to play, then go down for food, then come back up then play, then rest then play then fuffffffkcehdneknd I'm so pissed. I'm a jobless parasite who only has one task. That is,, to get a high distinction. After two weeks, I'll figure out my next task, but for now, I just have to do this. But it hurts so much. It's crazy. I can't do this. So I went back to the park. It's disappointing to not see the park uncles. I missed them. It's disappointing to not see that black pup who always wagged it's tail to greet me whenever I pass by. It's disappointing I don't see any of it's friends in the house, wagging their tails from behind the glass. It's disappointing I don't see anyone that I used to see.... I ran. Not a lot, 1km in the park, 1km on the treadmill due to rain. Did loads of ab exercises, did plank. I missed plank. But I struggled, doing a minute. I struggled doing 45secs side planks. I'm getting fatter. Why? My appetite definitely increased. I drink. Now I have to work more to get back abs. I don't know how. Haha. I need to work more. I need to cut down food, cut down anything fattening. Beer is no problem. I'm cutting down already anyway. Food is a bigger problem. It's killing me, my midnight cravings. It's crazy. I want to eat this. I want to eat that.

Moon snapped me. He's pretty sad. Ah.. I somehow feel like I'm seeing a sad version of me, from 2015.

I wanted to talk, but I didn't want to be that burden. So I blogged, and blogged, and blogged. I thought the best listeners got tired of me. I thought I was too annoying, I was a burden, I was starting to be a little too... I don't know. It's like I'm telling you stuff, but you probably think it's no big deal, but it was a big deal. Like I was making a fuss out of nothing. I don't know. At the end... I need your help, but I don't know how to ask for help. So instead of asking, I just type. I write diary entries about him, so much. I wrote it every time he gives me tiny hopes that our love wasn't broken just bent, and we could learn to love again. I wrote it everytime I thought it was the end of us, complete end. Idk. Haha. I don't know. It does sting when I try to do this. When I mention it. Haha. Oops. Sometimes I thought, all about wood has been packed nicely, into one particular box. In my daily life, I won't ever touch this anymore because... I just don't. Because I'm not sure if I'm over with us. Because when I think back, it still gets me. Sometimes I thought I have no rights to fall for another person. I have no rights to doubt about myself, whether I'm having little feelings for someone else. Cuz of this box. I have no rights to fall for someone else when this box still exists at an important spot in my heart.

Did you know? That undescribable feeling when all you want to do is for things to be fixed, for everything to go right? When things accidentally went wrong and you can't do anything about it and you just have to watch everything you love slip away from your arms. One mistake made him never comes back. It hurts so much you want to make it right but you can't, and the more you try, the worse it gets. It kills you bit by bit, every fucking day. It eats you up, you went to college daily feeling like nobody in this world gets what you're thinking. Nobody gets how much you want to die, to end all of this. You talk to people. You laugh at how adorable their hopes are, and you get envious. You want to hope again but you couldn't.

I'm glad I'm not like that anymore. I'm glad flashing back wouldn't trigger a fucked up night. Phew I'm ok to type this. I'm probably ok. Yep. It's just a bad memory. Yeah. Relax. Ok chill. I'm not like that anymore. It's been a long time since the last time I had these kinds of nightmares. It's been awhile since I felt living was as terrible as nightmares.

I'm not sure how the shits ended. But.. I'm happy it's all over. Idk what helped. Many things helped. Badminton helped. Badminton fucked up my life but made my life better. Hmmmmmmmm. More like knowing older people helped. More like...... Listening to ET helped. Maybe you should try to talk to him? Haha. Or... I don't know. Talk to someone, really. Drinking wouldn't help. Drinking emphasizes the stress. From drinking a little more, I cried on your shoulder from guilt towards you because I missed wood. From drinking a little more, I acted the way I acted when I was doing math, I swore a lot, I scolded shits. Maybe just for me, but I think drinking is a lot more fun and better when I'm purely happy and not stressing on stuff.

Did you know why I always asked "Alone?" ? I figured it was pretty dangerous being alone when sad. I used to picture myself jaywalking, killing myself. I used to picture myself walking off high areas. Walking myself into death. I pictured myself making one turn. One turn could easily kill. It's just too easy to die. It's scary. Maybe the key to feel better, is just... Letting it out? Let the ones you care know better. Let them help you cuz they'd hate themselves if they knew that they didn't when they could.

Speak.

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