Distraught

Goodness, I feel awful. Whenever the images somehow flash in my head, it's morbid. Somewhat like the way I felt when I found out about Sylvia Plath's life or read and watch material about Rwanda, genocides, shit like that. That squrim in the gut, the want to cringe, to turn away, to yank at my hair. Fuck.

I really need some kind of catharsis. Not that I ever want to disclose the details of why I'm distraught because of the delicate nature of things, but I sometimes in these cases wish that there was a God to help sort these messes up. Fucked in the head. And then there are times when I suddenly feel an urge to slam the base of my palm into the throats of the perpetrators of the wrongs. To tell them to stop fucking around. Fuck.

On a lighter note, I went to boys(i.e. gay) night at St James with geri and her friend to look-see abit. It's abit weird and amusing to have the tables turned. Kind of like National Geographic's hunter hunted. Had to go: "whoa mate, straight!" more than a couple of times. Lol. It turned out to be decently fun and rather unusual. But kudos to the gents who have the balls to have their fun and be themselves.

And shit, I've got my kids' speeches to vet, rebuttals to do, get up at 5-fucking fifteen to get to VJ, and I need to side part my hair and look neat and tidy for the teaching thing. Oh well, need the cash. And as for the emo-ing, I don't think I can do much about this. Which is why sometimes, being religious might be better because at least you have the hope that God can somehow turn things around. Arghs.