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musings.&.miseries.
otherwise known as utterly pointless moping. just ignore accordingly.



I'm too much of a coward to die
correction. I'm too much of a coward to commit suicide.
how pathetic is that?
and it's all because of the little things.
things that shouldn't even matter

guess I've always felt neutral about my own existence. I've never really ever minded death too much. except for when I have nightmares about the death of people that are close to me, and dear to my heart.
life was always more like a rolling stream, that some how I'm floating on.
don't know how I got here
and I don't mind leaving either.

if only
maybe because I've been such a miserable, disappointing failure all my life
that I just don't feel free to leave until I attain some kind of achievement or success. something, anything that my family can hold on to, and be proud of.
something, one last pleasant memory so that my presence won't be forever tainted by my failings.
I just want to make it out there, somewhere. in any aspect, really. I don't even mind. just 1 pathetic achievement that someone can be proud of?
so that I won't be a useless investment that my parents have spend 18 years raising. bad investment. just like stocks.
the bad ones that you simply hold on to, in blind belief that someday they'll yield some returns, even if they're just bare, marginal returns.
but no, im one of those stocks that just keep sliding down the charts. just a series of constant losses. a utter waste of resources, that could have been directed to somewhere else, somewhere better.

and bather part of me just wants to prove very one wrong. that there's something more to me than a never ending series of failures and mediocrity. some days I've thought of just shutting myself from the world, and just doing one thing, getting to the top. so that one day when I finally do reach something, I can finally leave here in peace. instead of leaving everyone else here in shame.

and the last thing? the last thing keeping me here? I have too many secrets. things that I've written down once upon a time, things that I've once thought of, little mementos of moments. these things I want to take with me forever. hide them from the world, of the living. except there's always a nagging doubt that I will miss something out. that I will forget, and somebody, someday will discover all these shameless secrets.
to tell the truth, some of them I can't even remember what they are. but there's jut this pervasive paranoia that somebody will see. whatever these things are.

wow.

oh and I guess I just want to die elegantly. so that at least their last memory of me won't b graphic and horrible.

that's it. simple.

now? no I'm not contemplating it yet.
not until I clear everything above.
but let's just nurse that idea, and keep it within the depths of our heart.


I was thinking ODing sounds like a good plan. or a good old fashion crimson line down my arm? carbon monoxide? or maybe a combination of 1 and 2?
yknow, just in case.
and the dress, it's got to be white. or a pale peaceful, calming creme.

it's just a deep sleep, into dream land, into some place better. peace. and tranquility. where we don't have to fight so hard against the world all the time.
and maybe I want it to be white, cause I'll never be a bride. I'll never be your bride. humour my fancies. let me leave, pretending. if only just for a day.

I guess that would be my only regret, not feeling your hands around me, (around my waist preferably) in the gesture of ownership. or the comforting weight of a metallic band round my fingers, a simple statement that I'm yours, and your's alone.
it just feels nice to know that someone wants you for once, for a change. that out of the millions of people in this world, there's someone who at least realised that you were there. that you exist. doesn't matter if you dont stick to this choice, but just knowing that once, somebody decided to choose me, (even if its only for a moment) already means so much.

you're all free to live your own lives.
forget that I ever existed.

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