17th September 2006
I’m sorry if I’ve been harsh on you. I won’t say I didn’t mean it, for if I did not, I wouldn’t have done it. You have been underperforming and that is a rigid fact. To think that i used to treat you as my baby. My laptop.
Mood swings are here. I’m losing control over myself. I desperately need a place where I can pacify myself, by numbing all my feelings and force the mind to concentrate. Not a bad choice though. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
A loser I thought. It’s somehow an addiction, where no matter how much you want to kick it away, it just comes back. No matter how much I said I did not want to see, my hands are just not obeying.
Promises, can they be kept? We have promised our parents of a good life for them, so why do some choose to jump and end it all even before they do what they promised, and leave both old folks in misery?