Well then, read through my profile, for I really am one...
I've lately arrived to this realization that I'm better off eating food than cooking it. I have 3 burns on my right hand, enough to paralyze the nerves on my skin... Or maybe not...
But I do have burns. My hand is cauterized.
MY CONTRADICTION
This is eventful, and I have to tell you this.
Luck was so hard to find then. I have foreseen
it with you. Yet for some known and obvious
reason, you've managed to win our only
argument. And that if I start losing myself,
I would have to let you know...
Well, I haven't...
Yet,
I may be lying...
It is misunderstood
moreover,
incomprehensible...
I wrote that, probably a few months ago. Honestly, I do not know which form of writing it's trying to identify itself with... Oh well...
Try this one...
YOUR BURNS AND MINE
Your photograph's the worst of its kind
I partake in that simplicity
Your apologies scratch veins in mind
I waste away my sanity
Your blessedness pries open my demons
I am an angel with black wings
Your heartbeat races all my summons
I portray the reaper who sings
Your slumber is my only defeat
I lock myself to your resound
Your forgottenness is all that's left
I only remain in its ground
Talk about angst... Yesterday, my father nonchalantly confirmed that he is sending me to med school. Not that I'm surprised or anything, it's just that, I still can't see myself being in one...
I've always wanted to be a writer and a corporate lawyer at the same time... But hey, scratch that, I think I also wanted to be a doctor when I was in elementary... *_* WTH??? But seriously, now that I'm more aware of the "reality bites" shenanigans in this country, I thought it best that I become a lawyer; I think I was already in highschool then... Since most doctors only end up succumbing to diaspora, or better yet, wallowing in the lesser degree of studying nursing, law is a better career option...
But enough about careers...
Writing.
I never really liked people reading my work, probably because I'm afraid that some megalomaniacs would misinterpret my boldness when it comes to this favorite passion of mine... I would only write all my poems, prose and thingamajigs on this worn-out black notebook kept inside my drawer, and with nothing but a mere pair of eyes, reading and rereading them... However, people grow... They should... And I thought to myself, "Just how could I ever improve as a writer, without letting people throwing spitbacks at my work?"
As I would always say...
I'M DIFFERENT ON PAPER THAN I AM IN AIR
And by being different, you just can't help but be hated, or worse, envied most, if not all, of the time. Thus, my motto: Like Me or Leave Me...
Hatred is a passion, a holdback, a remorse, a regret... It's only tentative, unlike angst that could rip people apart from the inside... It is in the gradual sense of nature, that people in the end, would be left with no other choice but to accept your disparity from them...
So this is Hiker's Emancipation... My release, my pandora's box... All the evils within myself that I'm not ashamed to let all of you know...
