Goner

Oh yes, I had a dream about my guy friend again. If you've been reading my blog, you know what I'm talking about. The story went this way:

I was living again in our old house somewhere in Q.C., and I had a surprising neighbor. Yes, it is he, my beloved friend.

My girlfriends and I were in our vicinity and we were talking so loud of about how much we loathe our friend's girlfriend, little did we know that he can overhear our conversation. But instead of panicking, I was glad that he can hear us because I want him to wake up to the ahypnotism made by her crazy-in-love beast. So instead of shutting up, I stood in front of his place and showed my discontent.

The next day, I was not so shocked to see his transformation. The super virtuous boy that we used to know had turned into a madman. He was yelling and very angry at us, or should I say at them because he was surprisingly not mad at me, especially to think that I was the instigator. But after he vented out, he eventually apologized for his impulsive demeanor, and everyone said sorry to him too.

When everybody had returned in their business, he approached me and politely asked me if he can walk me home (just like what he always does in real life). I accepted his invitation although I have an appointment with a gal pal and I don't feel like going home yet. I canceled my scheduled hangout with my best friend and chose to be with him instead.

Analysis:

• I hate ugly girls. I abhor ugly girls who think they're pretty. I condemn ugly girls who think they're pretty just because their boyfriends—with visual impairment—are hot. I want to cut their throats and put salt into it after. I hate them THAT much.
• I'm hotter than that stinking whore. Oh wait, let me edit that one. I'M HOT. SHE'S NOT. [End of the conversation.] There yah go! That's way lot better. ;) Because there's no point in comparing two things if there's no point of comparison to begin with.
• Even though I always act like a domineering biatch, my friend still remained a friend to me. He's still so kind to me and he still cares for me—which is bad. So bad. Too bad that it kills me. His gentleness works its way to the inside of me. It's penetrating into the throbbing interwoven fabric that is my heart, rooting there, sucking its blood, torturing it. While I try to remember how to inhale, how to exhale. But it's weird, because the pain tastes breathtakingly sweet.
• I was just making a fool out of myself when I said I'm over him. Truth is, I'm ALL OVER him. It's been almost two years but this heart beat is unrelenting; it's getting even worse as time goes by. This stirring emotion within me terminates the tiny pieces of logic my skull dared to hold. Driving me nuts. Going me bonkers. Leaving me petrified.
• I'm a goner. And I have to live with it.