writing

Writing is a way to detoxify myself. Here as I am sitting on the wooden floor of my room, looking at the laptop clock showing 12:11 AM, splurting out shit, I see my existence at the very core of it. Suddenly felt stomach-empty a while ago, I tried to struggle with the instinct to pull out all the evils hidden in my kitchen cupboard, by making some corn soup to calm myself down, and store up some energy in order to write this.

Let’s put it this way: I am, after all, a human being. By a human being, I mean a single one, not two, not together, totally detached from the social definition of our human race (the same as in gender vs sex). Even when I talk to friends/my family, exchange flirting sms with my boyfriend, go to class, go to convenience store to grab some coffee and cigarettes, I am eventually by myself. That means, the way the world revolves and things happen take place inside my head, and mine alone, not shared or determined or controlled by any means by any other external factors. I have a whole world with its own stories and melodies inside my head. And here, at this very moment as I mentioned above, I see my existence as a lonely, socially detached, single form of living creature that happens to be awake at 12:19 am, sitting straight up on my wooden floor, splitting out shit and eating corn soup.

My life is an everyday fight with the virus that has not only taken its evil root inside me but has spread and permeated every single cell of my body. Yet, the even more scrary fact is that it has eaten into my nerves, my brain, controlling every single movement of me, driving me crazy until my mind screams and I finally burst out in a chaotic mess, ending up with the obnoxious muddy stinky pool of my own bodily puking.

Please, do not read this if you are eating. Alert to those biologically fragile to human feces stories during meal time or hypocrites trying to appear sophisticated or ladylike or whatever terms you call it.

 The idea of social accompany gives me a nausea. That does not mean I am anti-social, or hate human, or look down on them. I do hang out with people; indeed I can never forget the time spent with the crazy kids from my high school time. I do enjoy the social and emotional aid that hanging out offers: it releases pain, it strengthens my beliefs, it enforces my own egoistic thoughts. Yet, I do not believe in the technical meaning of social accompany. Decisions are after all made by you and yourself alone.