comment originated from my "she never really liked you" post

i am not sure.. the more i try to think hard the more uncertainties.

the game? fun? happy?sad? crying over it? celebrating it? hate it? sastisfied? angry? hurting me? hurting someone else? shall i bother? shall i think somemore? shall i do a review? shall i regenerate my soul?

about life, i am wondering, why must why shall why should a summary like this to be reality? ain't funny ain't weird, as it is the expected unexpectation. when mention about chain, if u think someone is trap along a chainage, try not to think of escaping, indeed, a chain reaction. I dun need human to understand me or my lines, because i accept the fact that no one can ever understand me. i am not a self destructive person for someone, but i am for myself. if u ever been through, i deserve no right to be commented by you.

i only answer questions that worth the curiosity forwarded to me. if u simply ask, i dun think it worth the value of my answer. when i think it doesn't worth, it won't be a point for me to answer. so why the heck should someone doing something for a pointless something?

however, when i was drunk this morning with my remaining Chivas and Dunhill with a little weed, something happen to shoot and keeps on flashing in my mind:

it takes about 9 months to create my cels and nerves,
it takes 20 years to create my spirit and soul,
it only takes 3 years to sweep my devinity mental strength,
it takes only 3 months to end my crisis,
and finally it need only 3 minutes to stop my breathing.

[so why the heck should someone doing something for a pointless something?] It’s the same answer as to why someone could be self-destructive. You know it’s pointless but you still do it. You know you are going to harm yourself but you still do it. Everyone has their own reason. Nobody understands nobody.

No one can ever understand what another person has been thru. No one has any right to comment because they could never know how it feels to be you or me or anyone else. But it’s better to have been commented by someone, anyone, rather than being ignored. This is not about vanity nor is this about validation. This is about having that one person who cared enough to be there. Not someone who understands, but just someone to be there.

You know what; I think you’ll going to like this book - Heavier Than Heaven: The Biography of Kurt Cobain by Charles R. Cross. You don’t have to be a fan or Nirvana or Kurt to appreciate this book. It’s a story of a smart lovely kid who thought the world is “perfect” but soon realizes it’s an ugly world out there. He seeks solace in his music and drugs. No one could understand him; everyone thinks he is destroying himself but to him, he is just finding peace. And finally, he found peace. May God have mercy on his soul. p/s: if you hated it, let me know, i'll be glad to take it from you

We all have demons in us. We all have dark secrets. And some are worse than others. Nobody is perfect even if they appear to be. We seem to be “perfect” and intact on the outside, but inside we’re about to fall apart. Inside we’re all a little fragile.

Every single person down there is ignoring your pain because they're too busy with their own. The beautiful ones. The popular ones. The guys that pick on you. Everyone. If you could hear what they were feeling. The loneliness. The confusion. It looks quiet down there. It's not. It's deafening. - Buffy Summers.

The kind of love that even as it begins you know is preordained to break your heart and to end like a Greek tragedy – the love of many for Kurt Cobain. And the reason why I let her slipped away.