Screw You

Mood: shitty
Now Playing: nothing

My dad expects me to get up at 5 in the fucking morning, to help out clean the wooden blocks littering the vacant lot we call our own. Y'see, he's a fcking work nut. His dogmas is - i must have something to fix in my hands or i will die. This summer, he plans on fixing the shed where we keep all our carpentry tools - excuse me - HIS carpentry tools. There's this big shit going in around our backyard and it's so noisy it makes hearing heavy, distorted, incomprehensible and loud guitar solos sound like heaven's angels. I am not kidding, i am not shitting or am i utilizing some writing skills. It's so fucking noisy. And so, it's littered now with pieces of wood - i guess he's planning on making a ship or a shed or something - and he want me to clean that shit up.

what the fuck is his fucking problem?!

I have a fucking class at 9 in the fucking morning, and to reach the university on time, i MUST ride an fx at seven in the fucking morning, or i ride a fucking jeep to the ungodly and beastly baclaran station, which is fucking hot and fucking busy with fucking people who ALWAYS manage to bump/kick/smell/breathe/shit on me and my fucking white uniform, to catch a train to bambang/tayuman/un fucking station. Upon exiting the station, i either have to walk a few fucking miles to my goddamn fucking school OR hail a fucking goddamn fx or worse, a fucking smoking jeepney.

and it's 10 in the evening, and i have nine fucking hours until the morning. AND i have this big fat fucking 11 am - 1pm that fucking break which is so fucking boring i want to fucking cry.

fuck everyone, i want to die. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

And dad, you know i love you but i just can't fucking be you.