The Voices

IV. x_x

The day begins with that sore feeling right behind my right ear. It doesn’t have a sound, but if it had a voice, it’ll probably hum a mosquito-song. I didn’t bother looking at myself in the mirror. What’s the point? For sure, I will see things that I haven’t really liked for the longest time — a pair of eye bags sitting right below my eyes; sallow skin that marks the new-born facial fat; tired eyes that are both abused at work and at home.

III. The Trying-Hard Neutral Voice

To hate requires a cause. Sometimes, it had to do with people doing something ‘bad’ to you. And even as a witness of that bad deed (done towards another), hate surfaces. To put it neatly, hate is that invincible line you draw — a line that divides you from people (people who do something that you don’t do or so you think).

II. -__-

I’m drinking my cup of loathing today — steaming, singeing my tender taste buds in a span of what — seconds?

Without surprise, I feel toxic.

I push myself so hard and wear myself thin. Here in this black office chair, I can only express myself in numbers — number of texts that I could produce, number or dates when I can deliver the texts. Right now, I don’t feel much different from those short programs that we used to ran on C — producing 1s, 0s, and binary shit that I’m too dense to comprehend.

I. My Voice

Left alone in my own thoughts, I am dangerous.

I’ve always known that but…

like everything else, I’ve chosen to ignore it.


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