fentiy

[fentiy]

LABOUR (the cacophony): Paris Poloma

Several deep breaths and baffled by the realization that I'm still in the same situation I've always been. In many ways I feel like I deserve more yet in many other ways I'm reminded of how awfully pathetic I am, it doesn't make sense for me to deserve more.

if it's true that I deserve more why is no one offering me more. I struggle with my hunger for more and everyday I wake up in an utter state of starvation. It's a reality that canes it's torment into my back. Even now I don't understand why it has to be so. I don't understand my feelings and I don't understand my pain.

Every day I wake up to a new sadness, whether the sobering reflection of my meaningless life, the sinking stab of my vacuous love story, or the gut wrenching reminder of my persistence loneliness. Frequently I talk about how 'I'd rather die.' I've always wanted to die but in the past the thought of killing myself was a serious thought. It stirred me up and evoked a converse will to live. Nowadays I think of dying in passing, it could happen and I wouldn't mind. It should happen and I'd be better off for it.

I hate myself from the depths of my soul. I've tried to forgive myself for all the crimes I didn't commit, regardless of my conviction I still fall back to resenting the whole of me. I do not feel enough.

The world never fails to remind me of this. In practically all of my interpersonal relationships I'm being asked whether subliminally or overtly to do more. Fuck me harder, call me oftener, send more money on the regular, text earlier... And, God knows I'm all for fucking anyone harder but it's sinisterly depressing when the fact is I don't get to be fvcked hard conversely. At best I'll get fvcked, but to get fvcked I have to fvck harder. To merely receive texts I have to text earlier, to have a conversation I have to initiate and facilitate said conversation many times without the reciprocal will to do the same from the counter party.

I can think that I'm being overly critical of my predicament. Okay maybe I do get fvcked very hardly. Maybe all of this is just my emotions circling the drain of my depression. I mean, I have noseba, I have friends, I have family. This is all I need right, this is what I need and am ranting of not having right?

Most nights I ask myself this, if I had no money, more objectively, if I never had this kind of money would I have any of this in my life. I always answer no. It's even sadder because I feel like I would be content if I managed to get a reasonable facsimile of my ideal life on account of my net worth. So a honest and kind lover, friends who want to talk to you for the mere purpose of talking to you and a family that's totally altruistic about their interest in you.

The issue is despite this money what I get is a lover I can't trust, friends who only see me through the lens of how much I'm worth, and a family whose love and value for me increases in tandem with how much I do for them. Even worse still, all these people expect that before they act these hired roles I should do more to entice them into performing.

[fentiy]

Timeless: The Weeknd ft. Playboi Carti

Somehow it feels like there's just too much sensory stimulation around me. I now crave for peace and calm of the kind you'd find in a dark room in the middle of nowhere.

Honestly don't want to relate with people. It's just stressful and it doesn't bring me any satisfaction. Small talk is a chore with practically everyone. The only time I'm in the small mood to talk is with someone I want to have sex with. And lately even that pre sex bump in motivation to talk is dwindling slowly.

A lot of this is down to the nature and dynamics of my interpersonal relationships. For the most part i get the feeling that most of the people who bear the burden of talking to me do so for perceived benefits, not so much cos they enjoy talking to me. I should note that some people (a small sample size) actually like talking to me - i don't like talking to them.

I've honestly made peace with this state of things. One of my problems now however is the barrage of people who keep trying to talk to me. I don't want to talk to them and i often use the fact that I've been 'aired' countless times by people who don't want to talk to me as justification to simply ignore them. Every now and again my conscience bites me hard and I have this guilt.

I've also been feeling guilty about my relationship with levram. In many ways it's unhealthy. It's obvious she's still obsessed with me, at least something about me, and me breadcrumbing her and literally keeping her on a leash makes me feel so bad.

I can't stop because for some reason I feel this is the better option. Cutting contact with her will send her on downward spiral at least per my assessment. In many ways she's 'tethered' to me and my plan at first was to slowly let her off. It's not working and everyday she becomes more accomodating of my shortcomings and it seems like she falling deeper for this charade.

My life shouldn't be this complex. I'm a very simple man with simple needs. In every aspect of my life i pursue simplicity. If you knew me you'd know this is true. Emotionally however, my life is chaos. I mean, my 'girlfriend' doesn't want to be labelled girlfriend, i have serious doubts that she actually likes me, every day she delivers more pointers to validate my doubts. Yet I'm still with her acting cushy even though I'm starting to build resentment.

I feel one root cause of this is my lack of decisiveness. The balls to say fvck it and make a decisions regardless of the consequences. I'm always cowering under the shadows of what ifs and possible regrets. So rather than escape a slowly cooking pot of water, I tolerate the progressive increase in temperature until the water gets to a boil and then it's too late to jump out.

Spineless man.

[fentiy]

Makazi: Busiswa ft. Mr JazziQ

One way I'd managed to cope with my many crisis was defining a way out and establishing that I'd take that way out eventually. No matter the scenario, no matter the complications, there was always a way out. Once I'd navigated that way out the problem was over. The complexity or magnitude of the way out was inconsequencial, however daunting it might've been, as long as there was a chance of it being done, it was enough to be a way out.

Doing this in the moment helped pacify my raging anxiety. It was hope and it carried me through even the toughest crisis. In reality I was mostly mentally settled before reaching the point of executing the way out. I drew from the possibility of its future execution to fuel my current need for a desire to keep keeping on - counting and making barbeque with my chickens before they were hatched.

When Levram broke my heart, the way out was becoming more successful, to get a better girl, to show her what she'd missed. Same case for eddy. Same case when I hit rock bottom and was dead broke. Same case when I thought I'd been defrauded NGN56 Million. Same case for practically every challenge in my life. What's the challenge? Immediately, what's my way out.

In many ways my way out kept me in control (at least in my mental space) regardless of how helpless I was. I've come to realize how much I crave control - to be in charge of my own chances. I abhore being at the mercy of fate, of others, especially of others. My way out put me in charge. It allowed me the delusional sense of control whenever I was challenged by chaos or helplessness and that kept me sane.

Now imagine a challenge with no way out. And to fully digest the precariousness of my situation understand that I had a way out of a failure of my way out. Let me explain. Suppose I didn't get rich or successful with levram, that's a failure of a way out. The possibility of failure sort of invalidates a way out, makes it lack the temerity I need from it to feed my ego. So to solidify my way outs they all had a way out and usually that was ending my life.

If I was unable to navigate through the rot that came with getting my heart torn to pieces and then clinch success, Id just kill myself. Simple, valid way out. Poetic that the thought of death was what was feeding my zeal to give my best go at life. It was and still is very important to me that I have a sort of bulletproof and absolute way out. I need this to thrive.

Back to my way out less challenge. Through life I've always sort out love. It's almost pathological how much I crave the attention and loving kindness of a woman. To have someone I can call my girl, someone who was 'my girl' through and through. Unfortunately my quest for finding this someone has been fruitless, emotionally draining and frankly destructive. I've been through several cycles of hurt and heartbreak, so much that (it's not that much) I've become averse to the thought of trying again.

What is my way out. Try again, I can't. I want to and occasionally I succumb to my thirst for the feminine touch but I get hurt. I can't.

Get a surrogate mother. Hey, the challenge was getting 'my girl.' Not starting a family.

Kill myself. That's where it gets interesting. So, much to my surprise I'm now a billionaire (in Naira). My yearly income now exceeds USD1.2 million. Freaking rich, buy everything I want, even sex. The thought of me killing myself now makes for a Hollywood classic - billionaire, has all he want yet can't satisfy that inner itch, proving once again that money can't buy happiness. Just the singular fact that my life would make for a Hollywood trope was enough to invalidate this way out. But even more consequencial, I assess myself to say that my life has more value now. Suicide was a viable and fulfilling way out back then because my assessment at the time put out my life as worthless. Might be vain but my death would mean a loss of almost USD10 million of economic value in the nearest five years. It's a lot, I'm sure my family would agree.

I can't try again. I can't kill myself. I can't find a way out. I'm lost in a limbo. Every passing day is pain. I hate myself.

[fentiy]

Holy ghost: Omah Lay

Somehow I'm getting tired of interactions with other people. Somehow with people it's one of two things: they're talking to me cos of what I can do for them or they're not talking to me at all.

Somehow this makes me feel hollow. I get it I don't have the most attractive personality or looks. But, there's a person (there are people) for everyone out there right?

This emotion is not new to me. I've struggled with it for years now. Today it however became more complex.

My friend told me someone said by being a close friend of mine it'll make her appear to be cheap. I mean, can't I just have a friend in peace again. There's a tendency I'm misinterpreting this and overreacting but I just can't shrug off the feeling that when people see me they profile a vain, spiritless man who's only value proposition is wealth. I don't think I deserve that characterization.

I'm a kind person. I tell witty jokes. I generally make the effort to be interesting around people I like and most importantly I'm deffo not the most boring guy out there. And in my opinion Definitely not more boring than a lot of people who have successful relationships with the opposite sex.

Many times I've settled with the 'it's a me thing' theory. I'm the problem, my introverted extroversion, situational arrogance and pettiness may be the blur shadowing whatever else is supposed to be attractive in me. However I've noticed I'm not the only one who strugles with this.

A lot of men crave and beg for female attention around me. What is similar among us is essentially physical attractiveness. No attractive guy that I know has this problem. Offilc has a literal horde of women at his beck and call and not once has anyone tried to apply a derogatory tag to any of said women. My experience is everyone perceives that as normal. One minute I'm getting to know someone and next thing she's cheap.

I hate people, society and all it's machinations. I wish I could just stay without interacting with anyone. The off handed treatment I get because I don't excite people with my looks irks the fvck out of me. I wish I didn't exist.

And oh, part of the reason I'm pissed af is tfig refused to tell me who the person who made this comment was. I don't know if I'm allowed to be angry at that but it makes me feel so bad.

I dunno, maybe just depressed. I hate life.

[fentiy]

Ojapiano: KCee

Of all the things I've ever wished for very few measure up to my current need of having a shoulder (thigh) to lay my head on, cry and let out these deeply toxic emotions. Woven within me is a heavy fabric of negative emotions strewn together by deeply etched past experiences all of which cloak my psyche like the stealth black drapes of the Nazgul.

All around all I see is black. Even when I manage to catch a faint glimpse of light, of colors, it soon fades into pitch black darkness and fast. This torments my soul. I'll describe it as being trapped in a prism polished from inside to create a one sided mirror so that all I see from the inside are reflections of my tortured self. Outside my curse, all around me there's light and vibrant colors.

Sometimes it feels like all I need is someone to carve a hole through this prism to say here, here's some light, peer out and fill your troubled mind with the light and stimulation it so dearly craves for. I've tried to escape my prism with no success. I've tried to etch its walls so as to allow some light in, somehow it self heals.

Darkness is cold and insufferable. So many times I've tried to accept my prison as my home - to make lemonade out of lemons. No matter how hard I try I can't seem to tolerate the torment. I wake up every day ready to go then I'm hit with my reality. I wake up everyday all alone, starved of touch, affection or care. I wake up challenged by my limitations. I wake up cursing my body - should've been more perfect.

I'm trying to escape my curse. So everyday I etch the walls of my prism to refresh my mind with life's soo many delicious colors. The last few months I've willfully sought out a partner, someone to help carve out a hole or maybe shatter this prism altogether. But why would anyone bother to take up this unholy burden of dismantling a contrapment that's essentially a manifestation of my psyche. I mean, why should anyone ignore other beacons of dazzling light radiating magnificent colors to settle for a black hole. It makes no sense and even though I convinced myself that it might make a little sense at first, once again reality has shown me it's no respecter of wishful thinking.

Humbled yet again. Crushed yet again. Forced back into my prism and reconcilled with the torment of facing my deatlhy black silhouette. I've all but given up. In another world without my family I should end things.

But, I'm a billionaire with a mother and four siblings who'd suffer unnecessary emotional and financial hurt in my absence. I must continue with my labors. Maybe someday a dame with an adamatium sword finds me and lays my cursed prism to rubbles.

[fentiy]

Bank on it: Burna Boy

Everything I've said I went back on it.

I wish I could be a better man, a stronger man. Better and stronger in every way. I feel so weak.

How do other men do this. How do they manage to stay defiant in the face of life's trials and how do they manage to come out victorious in the things that matter to them. I'm no victor and I feel like a failure.

You look at me and see success. Yet failure is the very fire that burns within me. Flames of rage, hate, bile and everything else untoward kinders my soul. I have money and I have what many people want, but I also have failure.

I've failed in the business of being a happy man. Burdened with sadness that stretches out every shard of tolerance I have, life has become a miasma of pain, suffering and endless strife.

For most of what has beaten me battered, I have developed tolerance. For love and the splitting pain it consistently shears into my heart, I remain a friable victim.

Broken and bent. Broken and dishivelled. Love steals my happiness, at least whatever pitiable quantum of happiness I've managed to muster. It renders me hopeless. It causes me soo much pain. I hate that I have a need to be with someone, to be someone's special person. I hate the drive to form an emotional connection. I hate the despicable torment that comes with peaceful loneliness.

What I would give to find true comfort and satisfaction in myself. My very being frictions against the conventional definitions of finding (chasing) love, forming dependencies, and of chasing sex. Pumped by my hormones and charged by the innate will to not be alone, I pursue my antithesis.

But am I really averse to the human mating behaviour or have I failed so much at it that I now hate it as a self preserving mechanism. I know the answer to that question. I'm a failure and I hate myself.

[fentiy]

I dey feel like: 2face

It's almost surreal the way emotions - what I call love - works out to be a point of distress and sorrow. I've been here before and I know how this ends. I know the plot, the actors and the eventual story end in this trajecomedy.

Beaten and battered, once again I'm begging for love. Begging to be seen, begging to be heard and begging to have someone I can call mine. I hate this feeling and this state with every iota of my being. I feel filthy, less of human even, like a pig groomed for the slaughter, I'm now hung by my hamstrings, thoroughly used and now dumped.

I'd give anything and everything to take this feeling away. Id give anything for a clear conscience and headspace to take my life. I wish no one cared about me, I wish my mother wasn't already a heartbroken woman maybe she'd have the fortitude to bear the heartbreak of my death.

alas, I don't have that luxury. Taking my life will drive this woman to the ground, six feet into the ground with me. Even if she managed to shore up enough will power to live, I can't imagine the torment shed have to bear, on my account, her once golden child. If only she knew I was never real gold, just hold plated sheet metal who's now very much exposed by life's corrosive bath.

But how can I soldier on like this. A shadow of myself. Lonely and forsaken. No one cares, no one ever cared. I feel a deep sadness boiling up from within my soul. All around me and everyone has a new glow. All around me is happiness yet nothing works for the golden child.

Starved of affection I reached out to the only spark in my godforsaken life. Starved of touch, of love, of care I reached out begging for my spark. I begged with Grace and candor but even a child could see through my unworthy smokescreen. I'm broken and battered. Scorched from life's incessant barrage of tribulations. With a soft wimper masked as a valiant call I ask my spark for one last ember... She could see the pitiful, sorrowful lonester behind that deceivingly couragious voice. She can see my call for help and even though she hates herself for doing it she agrees to do it one more time - stroke my battered ego, one last time again for old times sake. Not for love, For pity in seeing the dejected man I've become.

[fentiy]

Unstoppable: Santigold

It's amazing the state I'm in right now. I feel so helpless. It's like being stuck in a pit and the only way is the way down. I'm sinking deeper into a never ending spiral of doom. My head's all muddy, It's hard to write, yet writing is the only thing asides from crying that brings some relief. God knows I'm all out of tears.

Life is so lonely. I never thought I'd see the day when nobody actually cared. There was always someone. I thought I had the right to always have someone. There's no one here now; my family's always here but I need love like a man needs love. My heart yearns for an emotional connection, an emotional attachment. My body craves for touch. I don't have any of that and it's making me sick.

What's an even worse feeling is the crunching anguish that trails rejection every time I try to create an emotional connection. I feel like I'm leprous. Am I that repulsive? To the point nobody even wants to talk to me? The inferable answer to both questions is yes. It feels like I'm not good enough, and not just not good enough but repulsive, to anyone I have an interest in.

I know I'm not Channing Tatum or Jason Mamoa but god damn, am I smeagol? All the girls I've tried talking to in the last few months have straight up ghosted me. No replies at all. No response to my calls. Nothing. Ghosted like I never existed. It's such a pain in the mind and on the body to feel so unimportant.

Even Vram has straight up shown me that she'd not mind not having me around. Let's be friends she said. Let there be space so these entitlements don't exist. But I was never an entitled bitch, if anything she was (no longer is) the entitled bitch. For her, it is convenient to not be entitled. It is convenient to not have me around. She's a big girl now and what used to be someone who couldn't do without talking to me each day is hot girl totally chill with slicing off like a hot knife cuts through butter.

It sucks and sucks balls that I cant seem to do anything to change any of this. I feel lost. I'm angry. I hate everything. I hate everyone. I'm seething with rage.

I'd rather not have this bitterness to take over me but what can I do. There's no love anywhere around me for me and I crave it so badly. I crave not being taken for granted. I crave the attention. And crave feeling special. Now, I'm just a husk of person, an empty shell kicked about life like tumbleweed.

I need this hurt to stop. I can't take it no more, please.

[fentiy]

Cold Outside: Timaya

Streets are so fvcking cold right now. Everyone seems to have me figured out. Despite how much I try to feign sophistication, everyone can now see me for the plain old simpleton that I truly am - nothing to see here.

I do wish someone, anyone, could bother trying to take me serious tho. It's lonely here all by myself. It hurts badly. I've tried (I am trying) to form new relationships; try to talk to new people as they say but no one even bothers to reply my texts. No one asides from Vram that is.

But even they has got me all figured out too. And it shows. What used to come off as a craving to talk to me now feels almost like a chore needing to be performed. I don't feel wanted. I feel kept by the side. And that hurts too.

What can I do to ease the pain. I don't know. I feel hopeless and that is in itself pain. I'm annoyed at myself. Am I that ugly? Do I have such a bad character? Am I too proud?

Pride? Even after I've bruised my ego reaching out to people unreplied time and again. I'm at my lowest point, I'd kill for some form of attention from the opposite sex, yet it seems like I'm a man with plague. No one gives two flying fvcks. And it just emphasizes why I should appreciate Vram more.

I would do that except they don't even want that. It's hard to believe they are into me, certainly not into me as was the case before. Everyday we (they) drift further apart. I try to close this distance. I'm losing myself in the process with the distance widening with every such attempt. Shit hurts like a bitch.

So every night I cry like a bitch. It's anguish from deep down my soul. Crying makes it a little bit better until I start yearning for some form of emotional connection yet again.

What's the point to all of this. I should end this life. I'm sick. I'm abandoned. I'm alone. And I hate this body.

That would break my mom's fragile heart.

Bent and broken; with crooked steps I trod on, head down, battered like a mule. My back aches from the loads of living yet I must keep toiling for after all, I'm a mule.

[fentiy]

Midnight sky: Miley cyrus

It’s hard to picture myself in this damaged state. Very few things make any sense, even if things did make sense, I’d say I struggle deeply to make any sense out of anything. It’s funny because outwardly you could confuse me as someone who’s got their shit together with little to no clue as to the big heaping pile of shit I was.

I am tired. Tired of the way I feel. The way I act. The way I am. Even more tiring is my perpetual state of helplessness. I can’t get myself or my situation to change and this frustrates me. Right now, it is driving me to a manic state. Every morning (or any other time I peer into my wretched existence), I am reminded of how hopeless the situation is. It is getting worse and like a self-fulfilling negative feedback mechanism, the process itself serves as a catalyst to fuel my self-indulging catharsis.

I’ve tried to control the situation many times. Many times, I have failed and as an artefact of each failure I get a giant mental plaque emphasizing the inadvertent futility of my at-best pathetic copout towards rehabilitation. I can’t cope with my life and it’s really unsettling to accept that I’m practically helpless or I’d say hopeless.

I’m upset and tired of this challenge and now I spend most of my days wondering why bother. Why continue on this self-depreciating challenge. The best answers I could derive in the past to answer those questions shrivel in the toxic fog of my mental state. I can’t ignore them and whereas they were once an oasis of color, today they exist as confronting banners leading to nowhere on my life’s desert island.

Lost and trapped I wonder where else I could go or what else I could do. It’s painful because I know nothing matters. Experience tells me so. Nothing I can do even remotely alters this grotesque characterization of life. I am trapped in a frantic race with my mind. You would think it’s a race right, I can either lose or get myself disqualified to end it. But I can’t do any of that either. It’s a race to death, one where participation is mandatory and the resulting outcomes remain independent of your personal conviction. This hurts like hell.

[fentiy]

Chained to the rythm: Katy Perry

Whoosh! Don't even know where to start from.

In my heart a massive void. I'm empty. Sad. And slowly losing the will to keep up with this. I'm pretty much used to this feeling, but even then, with every episode it strikes a unique nerve.

What do I want? Slowly drift away from this world to wherever is afterlife as I sleep. I've prayed to God for this to happen, so far my prayers have not been answered. Then again they shouldn't be answered. I mean, what would happen to my mom if she lost me, my siblings, who now picture me as a dad.

I'm a dad alright. Writing fetches me enough to make sure they don't overly miss the financial contributions of my dad. I make enough to get myself all I need, heck I even bought a car. To many I'm living the dream life of a young adult. medical student. Earns more than most of his teachers. Sponsors himself and still has enough to help out friends.

Yet, this is not the dream life for me, nor is it for anyone. With every passing day I struggle to get off my bed. Sleep is an all too familiar friend, the only one that has stood by me through all my troubles. In its arms I drift into the trenches of my imagination, seeking a confinement where I'd lose myself from the shackles of living. That confinement continues to elude me.

I'm tired of people and at this point I'm also tired I pointing accusing fingers at them. It seems, for the most part, that I am the brooder of toxicity. Relationships put a tedious strain on me, it's almost surreal. I keep expecting so much from people forgetting they're only humans. Humans who are selfish, who mess with others for sport and who care only when caring matters to their personal happiness. I'm human too and the aforementioned is an apt description of me. Why then can't I tolerate the abuse when sides are changed as it should be once in every while.

I've lost my emotional resilience. With the slightest tickle I laugh, and all it takes to make me sob is one out of place statement, action or inaction. Life has become tooo difficult for me and everyday I'm plagued with inexplicable sadness.

Did I just say inexplicable :) nahh. I know what's wrong. Medical school and financial independence were two things I always wanted to have, yet neither is what my heart has sincerely yearned for since that first rubato beat.

[fentiy]

Maps: Maroon 5

'I wonder where were you. when I was at my worst, down on my knees'

it’s raining heavily, and I’ve decided to rest a little. facing the computer for 3 straight hours is no joke. on my bed, and once again doleful thoughts becloud my mind.

years have passed, I’ve lost virtually all my friends and if anything this unending phase has given me a sound understanding of people and relationships. my experience thus far can be summarized into one sentence: people tend to love you in two situations, when they need you or when you’re beautiful, the later itself a need, as beauty is a much sort after ‘need’ but for clarity sake I’ll separate the two.

I know this sounds cliche as this notion is a well recycled school of thought, regardless, however, it is valid, except of cos in my case; I tend to love, to like, unconditionally. most times as I’ve now come to accept the love is never returned, all I have around me are groups of people who are only there when they need to be there, not when I need them here.

to be fair, it’s not a fault of theirs. if life had been fairer to me, I’d probably do the same if not worse. my helpless state has robbed me of all ego… I’m almost like a vegetable swaying wherever the winds blow me to. I can’t select my friends, cos they’re scarce in number and overtime I’ve seen myself trying desperately to cling on to relationship with glaringly uninterested parties. I’m erased from the picture when colours are bright, and quickly recoloured into it when the pallet becomes grey.

Eddy, zena, cateyes,and more surprisingly 5'9. in all sincerity anything from the former three is quite expected, but 5'9 left me thoroughly let down. as is always what remains now is to dwell on this disappointment and torture myself into accepting it. I’m used to that. what I’m not used to is the strong sense of determination brewing in my heart, I’ve had it before when Sophia dealt her cards but I pray this time I put it to good use, cause quite frankly I crave to have the last laugh — if my memory serves me right Sophia was the last to laugh, I hope this time around, at least, one of my dreams will come to pass.

[fentiy]

Past 2: Zemaria

'fake a smile on your face and its all up to you my friend' the zeal to continue living is one that persists up until the life is eventually lost. it's what has kept me going this last few months. despite the intermittent suicidal thoughts, the frantic heart, and the sorrowful disappointments, I've managed to take deep breaths and wake up everyday. with every passing day I lose a bit of myself, at this point my ego, confidence, and dare I say intellect have all suffered a bit of erosion. I've learnt, much like a hermit crab to my increasingly comfortable dark room with each passing day I distance myself from reality. I slide deeper into the pit of filth. I'm filthily depressed, filthily hopeless, yet surviving... filthily. but,can I change this? I know I have very few cards to play, life has dealt me the short hand of the carrot stick. but I still owe it to myself to smile more often. and although I've been smiling quite often these days it's a smile that never reaches the heart. I want to smile deeper and to that effect, i'm taking up the challenge to be a full time software dev. I can't say my friends recent success in this field didn't contribute to this renewed enthusiasm. it did. sincerely I was jealous. add envious too. I've always wanted to be a dev, it sounds sexy (so maybe some sex, it's been two years gosh!) and it pays, more importantly it pays conveniently. while my present commitment certainly pulls in the $$$ it is exhausting and more or less uncertain. so from this day henceforth, I plan to dedicate a significant portion of my time to dev training. it's something I can do but have failed to do in the past. hopefully this would be a successful attempt

[fentiy]

Losing Sleep: John Newman

it's almost 3am I'm not calling but I'm definitely losing sleep. caught in the memories of yesterday. of how it was so perfect, how we were so perfect; then I had to become imperfect. I took a fall. and I lost it. I lost the charm. I lost the zeal. I lost the pizazz. I became a blank slate to charred to be polished, relegated to confines of darkness. sworn to bitter torments of my demons. I wish I could travel to the past. to savor every moment I had with you. cos they were my best, I'm at my worst. I'm bruised and battered, you're not here to nurse my wounds. they've grown infectious, I'm being consumed alive. it's painful. and my chest hurts. my heart burns for you, to tend to this frail being I've become. without you the torments are overwhelming, it kills me everyday and I wish it did a thorough job of keeping me asleep. I don't wanna wake up anymore... I don't wanna live like this anymore. without me. without you. it's all worthless. yet I'm forced to keep at it. to continue in this tireless strife of existing. I miss myself but I miss you more. and I wish you were here. you're farrrr away...

[fentiy]

Seoul Stores. Grand Grand reopening

[fentiy]

Shine: Years and Years

I don’t like coming here. although my place of solace, it’s somewhere I only come to when things are so rough and I’ve got no other sedative to calm the tides.

yeah. things are quite rough. things are rough in my head. they’re rough in my life. it’s rough waking up everyday. and my feet are jagged up from threading this rough path that is life.

it’s rough when you’re alone. I’ve told myself several times that I don’t need anyone, but mehn, I really do need someone. someone I can confide in. someone I can confess to, someone I can let loose to, this huge confinement of thoughts, feelings and problems that have remain locked behind the feeble gate of my heart.

the last few weeks haven’t been the worst. for fact I’ve turned out quite a number of positives from my days. I’m earning some money, in a convenient way, I smile often during the day.

smiles that do not hold any value beyond the orbicularis muscle of my mouth. cos wen the curtain is pulled down by the setting sun, in unison my lips are pulled down shut. night ushers in an air of meditation, and reflection, and given that there are few happy tins to meditate on its no surprise that I quickly drift into the mist of depression.

I can’t say im not thankful for the opportunity to live, I’m grateful, but with every day a continuous wade through the endless sea of strife and dissapointment, I really am beginning to see less essence in this whole charade. I’m tired, the waves hits and bruises me from all angles, as I’m too weak to paddle further, I float in submission to the tides, going wherever they take me. I pray I reach an island pretty soon. I’ve become seasick

[fentiy]

A case for shame: Moby

the past has a way of haunting us especially when the future isnt looking so bright. I like to believe that everyone has a box of secrets: skeletons in their closets that no one know about. it's what I tell myself most times to enable me rest easy. that's cos the content of my black box irk me to the core. I guess at one time or the other we've all engaged in one act or another that we're not so proud of. I for one have many acts im not proud of and I hope that my assumption that everyone has one isn't unfounded. at a young age, we tend to go off trail unless kept on trial by a guider of some sort, our parents. I went of trail many times. not to falter the parenting capabilities of my parents cos in truth they did their best. but adolescence ushers a plethora of new feelings, new ideas most of which are deviant. so I did these things, which in truth, going by the ascribed societal standards wouldn't have made me a villain (maybe one or two times I was villain) but the summation of my self proclaimed atrocities wouldn't have earned me a conviction. but if looked at from a moral perspective it assumes a differ stance. at a point in my life I was a sex crazed, testosterone pumped nympho. I mean my libido was so high that id not pass out any opportunity to get into it.. I'm no chastity Charles, but I've always believed that engaging in sexual activities affected your mojo in a way that's most likely not beneficial. despite this, I was fully into it and I was knee deep into it. when I remember theses events, I feel so filthy, dirty. dirty as at how I engaged in these activities and the manner in which in did these 'things'. I did stop at point, not because I wanted to. supply was cut. it didn't take a while for me to realize I was well adrift of sanity. and a full reset was next. more than a year now. and I'm devoid of any sexual malfeasance. suffice to say that, I somehow think that my present predicament is deserved comeuppance for those activities. it's farfetched, but whenever I think of those moments I recluse into a shameful state, with an overwhelming cloud of guilt over shadowing my consciousness. then again, I could just be ascribing blames. as if the future was better than it is now I'd prolly not have regretted those moments, at least not to this extent. sigh. i need a soul purging.