March 8, 2012
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i finally said those words loud to my enemies.
people care about food and entertainment. while i keep fighting for my living and life.
there is only a spark of every moment. i m not eager to live at its fullest, but i don't want to get bored by anything that is persistent in a more or less the same way. viz. stabilized and reluctant to changes unconsciously.
i therefore change my names, identities, jobs, outlook (at least hair style, and now the teeth), to see what will happen from all these actions.
people don't like me, well, i don't care (even i care, what can i do?). because i will not like everyone in my life too. but i seldom hate my friends or people surrounding me.
i forget things easily. i hate them because occasionally you are being reminded by your friends. i don't really hate anyone. except those fucking insane people.
the hatred is strong, too strong for me to have energy to hate another bunch of people.
people can be less friendly, stupid, careless, greedy. but me either.
i already have a tough life. pls don't make me to hate you, i hate to curse or worry about you.
sometimes i have emotional breakdown,
but i am still alive.
no one really cares. and even they cares, the cause will never be eased. that the past. the past shaped me, the now me.
few people i trust.
and only few people i can talk to. the number is declining, regret to say.
why we need to share things?
more and more i feel like very lonely because no one is appreciating you, your work and your words.
they like a like button more than you. they don't feel you anymore. they capture images that make you stare at 5 seconds with no content.
however, that's phenomena.
digital age, people connected by virtual vibe. sacrificed time for their plausible updates (me as well).
writing simple words that attract attention or laugh. i hope there is anyone i can share in facebook, well, it's non, non et non.
mais, je ne suis pas fâché ou frustré.
simulacres, comme le philosophe français Jean Baudrillard écrit,
c'est le statu quo de cette époque.
je parle un peu française, mais j'écris en français pour éviter de voyeur sur mon esprit.
je rencontre nouvel ami du Congo, et de planifier à lui rendre visite à la Belgique.
Il parle français, alors je peux apprendre le français.
il a dix-neuf ans, et il est jeune.
jeune est bon.
nous avons besoin de sourires jeunes.
ce qui va m'arriver à moi, 2 ans plus tard?
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