It's great that humans can only use 10% of their brains. If I could use 100% of mine, I would have 10 times the migraine. Like 99.9999% of the labor force which deals with the rat races every single day, I'm starting to detest my current occupation. The levels of self-pity and self-degradation is reaching new levels of annoyance and like a runaway freight train, its momentum is impossible to stop by a bullet going the other way.

It has been a long day, starting at 8, and even now, at 2:30 am, still it continues, and threatens to do so until the wee hours of the morning. My eyes feel like they've been stuffed with cotton balls, dry and inflated. I placed some drops of eye lubricant on them but even that did not provide relief. I close my eyes for 15 minutes to get them to come back to some sort of normality but to no avail. I run to the bathroom and get my wet facecloth and wet my eyelids, hoping to moisturize them, along with my eyes.

I didn't have a particularly fun Mother's Day since I missed dinner. I wasn't particularly ready to inform my family regarding my future plans for school. I disappointed my mother, and disappointed myself. I wanted to go, but only if it was simply immediate family. I don't particularly like my maternal cousins. They're not my type of people, and since I didn't grow up with them, it's hard to find something to talk about. I'm not in the mood for small talk or any sort of pleasantries so they can place their kind words elsewhere.

It was an early morning, with myself having to go to work by 9 am. Since my sister has to be there half an hour early, I do as well. Not that much of a drag since I listened to my Panasonic discman instead. It's the best investment I've ever made and I smile sometimes when I think about it. Work itself was dreary, and that's putting it lightly. My boss was sick and since I was the only one willing to figure out what was supposed to be done, I had to finish all the paperwork and the physical labor that my job description entails. I saw a potentially beautiful asian woman at work, but her bleached blonde hair turned me off quickly. I like asian women with dyed hair, but to me, it has to suit the features of the person, which in this case, didn't seem so to me. More and more people are talking to me during my break. While I do like the human aspect of it, I prefer to be alone, to think, to recover from the influx of people that I have to deal with in the form of customers. I head home quickly right after work.

Even with my mother angry at me, she left me the car, because without it, combined with The Translink Strike, I wouldn't be able to get to school otherwise. I came home, thinking that I would nap for about a half hour, to get my bearings straight, and get going to school. I diligently set my alarm and left it by my head as I slept. I finally woke up at 9 PM, and realized that the battery on the bloody thing either died or got dislodged, so I would up missing my class. It just felt like my good luck was just getting better and better.

I missed dinner, I missed school, and work blew chunks. Someone was playing a joke on me and it wasn't funny in any way what-so-ever. Frustrated, and terribly fatigued even after my nap, I went out for a walk. Discman in hand and ear, I walked around, trying to calm myself. I'm a night person, definitely more alive during the night. Something about the crisper air, maybe the darkness of the sky that invigorates my veins. The soothing voices of Baby VOX, Fin.K.L, S.E.S and As One helped me cope with the trials of today. For a moment, I recalled the five words on the cover of the Baby V.O.X cd. Passion. Recollection. Consent. Purity. Betrayal. I realized that I know them too well, like old friends. The night seemed darker to me at that moment, as it caused me to stand in the middle of the crosswalk as I walked, and not realize that there was an incoming car. I came back to Earth after the Acura Integra used his horn to wake me up. While a variation of a near death experience, I wasn't afraid of death. I was afraid of the pain of dying.

I come home to play some Tetrinet with MrFurious and friends. I watched my VCD again, only to almost drool at the sight of Kan Mi-Yuon of Baby V.O.X. Such innocence. Such cuteness. Such sex appeal. Such unfairness to know that I can never meet or be with anyone such as her. Missing You is on my Winamp now and I hope to sleep soon. Tomorrow will be another long day with work and all. I realized something while I was walking. Maybe it's just me but I can't really do two things at once competently together. Like if I was to hum to myself a song, I wouldn't be thinking about anything but if I was thinking, I wouldn't be able to carry a conversation. I found a good solution to overcoming my bout of self-depression while alone: Sing to myself. But since I can't sing well at all, I don't know what would be worse, me thinking about problems with no solutions or listening to myself sing...

Missing you makes my day complete, until the day you are with me. When the day you are with me, I will no longer miss you and it no longer matters that you aren't there. I'll start neglecting you and again you'll run away from me. I'll miss you again, and beg you to return and forever will we be in this loop. Now you're not in the loop as I'm always just missing you and not having you in my arms. Now I'm in a different loop, missing you, missing you, missing you, missing you...