It's a cloudy Friday.
I'm listening to Chopin's piano concerto no.1 while enjoying a bowl of Kellogg's Frosted Flakes.
I don't want to meet anyone for now and it's good that my dad has just left for work. I don't want to talk much with anyone today. Some cars pass by and I wish I can throw them grenades so the cars explode. I look out the window and see some of my neighbors' children playing in my garden. I wish I can behead them because I don't like them. They are noisy and often times they ruin my garden. They pick some stalks of rose and throw the stalks into my fish pond. They are idiots. Fish don't eat rose and the children feed my fish with rose. I'm home alone now and it's good. Nobody's home and I don't have to feel suffocated.
I'm still listening to Chopin's piano concerto no.1
I feel hollow. I need something to fill the hollowness. My brother Rey has not come back from college and my sister keeps complaining about her life. I'm tired of watching faces on Facebook and reading curses and grumblings on Twitter. I wish I can see sandy beach as I open my door and I can feel fresh ocean breeze as I open my window. I'm tired of city lights because what I want is starlights. I've played Mozart's piano sonata k545 for three times today and I don't want to play it anymore for today. I hurt my finger when playing Chopin's etude op.10 no.12. I don't want to play violin alone but I don't want to meet anyone today. I turn on my television and my favorite TV show hasn't started so I turn it off and turn up the volume of my music player. The concerto echoes all over my place and that's good.
The bowl is empty now.
I need a good friend, but I can't find any. I want to meet one but I don't want to meet anyone today. I want to talk with one but I don't want to talk much with anyone today. I want to find one but I don't want to go out today. I'm frustrated. The world keeps talking and there's no use for me to talk because the world keeps talking and no one can hear me. I can't talk while my sister keeps complaining about her life. I can't talk while my brother is busy doing assignments. My mom hasn't been feeling good these days so I should not talk for it would burden her. I don't want to talk with dad because he doesn't really listen to me. I wish Akira and George can talk but they're just puppets, and some people think it's childish for a guy to talk with puppets. My senpais are busy and they have their own world, which is not my world. I'm tired of shopping malls, cinemas, and game arcades. I even see strangers at Starbucks. I don't like speaking to strangers. Acquaintances are not my friend; they are just people whose faces are recognized by me. I want to discover new places but I don't want to meet strangers. I can't tell what's going on inside of me but I feel frustrated.
The concerto.
The piano part of the concerto starts with furious riffs. I feel like throwing a set of fine china to the wall. I feel like smashing everything I see, stabbing everyone I meet, cutting every tongues that keep babbling shits, punching all the windows, and even hitting my head to the French door. Drop dead y'all!
But I'm just a human. The riffs suddenly turn into soft block chords and melancholic melody with legato. Why do tears taste salty? Do they contain salt? There's no use to smash things, behead people, cut tongues, and punch all the windows. The world will keep talking. I burst into tears. Everything is so wrong now. I burst into tears. I want to behead more people but I can't even get up. I burst into tears. My head feels so heavy and I can't get up. Somebody please turn the music off. I need somebody to turn it off for me, but I don't want anyone to see me. I don't want to see anyone today. I've told about it. I don't want to meet anyone for now and I mean it.
Uncle Chris has once seen me playing with a cutter and cutting my arm. He took the cutter from me and slapped me. Elle has once done the same thing but no one has ever slapped her. She knew I did the same thing and she slapped me. I wish I could slap her at that time but I couldn't. My brother knew about it and he cried. He didn't want to lose me but now, why is he so busy? Elle has stopped doing such thing and she told me that masochism is not good. I threw my cutter away and promised myself not to cut my arm anymore.
There is no a cutter around me and I don't want to play with cutters anymore. I turn the volume of my music player down. My bowl is empty now. The children playing in my garden have left.
It's good. I feel relieved now.
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