I hate people.

I hate them for not reading enough. I hate them for listening to ear-bleeding music. I hate their stupid pretentious asses who go around frolicking in skin-tight dresses.

I chose to write an article on how beauty is projected by mass media (inspired by V). I wrote with so much heart and rage. I wrote with scoops of ice cream in my mouth (because my fingers were too busy tapping away on the keyboard and every little scoop I took is a bit of inspiration lost). When I felt proud with my almost-done article, I got my dad to read it. And. You. Know. What. He. Said?

"I don't think this will appeal to the people."

The.

People.

The. Fuck.

I hate people for being dumb. I hate people who can't sit still to read something that is more than 50 words. I hate people who look at books and say "Wahh, so many words." I hate people who don't try to understand serious matters like how sex ed is so essential to us now (and no, pictures of human sex organs do not teach us the effects of unprotected sex or the emotional impact of sex before marriage) because songs on the radio are practically screaming out "WOOHOO LETZ HAVE SEX" but are more focused on how Lady Gaga managed to save the world with her turquoise coloured wig.

Are people really that, how shall I put this.. Shallow? Dim-witted?

I don't like how pointless this post is because it makes me sound like a fucking whiny brat but damn it. People. They frustrate me. I hate myself for generalising everyone like this but fuck, the rage I have right now. But you'd forgive me.

Stay.

This is my life. And it's ending one minute at a time.

I'm unsure of the purpose I'm here, on Earth. Every time the minute hand on the clock moves clockwise, I'm one minute closer to death, closer to The End. Yet, I'm still trying to figure out the purpose of my existence. I've been existing for 19 years now. Existing without a sense of purpose. Is this how we are made to live our early years? Simply living because we're too young to think about our reason of being born on the day we're born, at the hour we're born? Why has no one ever encouraged me to think about the purpose of living? About my purpose of living? Has age ever been a factor to understand philosophy? I've seen people twice my age who are still in the dark, just sitting in the dark; instead of groping around for the light switch.

The world has been too preoccupied with silly, unimportant things. Sex, money, reality shows, celebrities. We have been corrupted by the way society has made us view our lives. We need paper qualifications to be successful. We need more money to be influential. Maybe with aiding factors like money and paper qualification, we will know or fulfill our purpose of existence. To influence or change the world. That is, if that's our purpose of existence. But television and other forms of media have given a cruel twist to that. We are contained in a box. We are made to study hard, because that's our purpose as a son or daughter to our parents. We are made to humour friends, because that's our purpose as a friend. We are made to earn money to support our family, because that's our purpose as a provider, as a parent.

Our purpose in life has been defined by external factors. By the society. However, can I accept them as the purpose of my existence? I highly doubt it.

"You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world."

Tyler Durden ; Fight Club

I won't start bringing up questions whether the purpose of my existence is already written down in a hardcover book by Fate or whether I'm responsible to write it down myself. That's a different topic altogether.

It's just that, we have been blinded by the purpose society has handwritten for us. And we didn't even realise it. We're so busy trying to be the mould the world wants us to be that when we experience a near-death situation, we will finally realise that we've been living for nothing. Existing without a sense of purpose.

Flicker.

Friends. I'll admit I've met many friends who had the potential to be the people I'll hang on for life.

I was too selfish, too absorbed with my own problems that I don't even try to keep that friendship.

And now, when I watch the people I add as friends on Facebook, I wonder how many people will actually realise if I vanished from the face of the Earth.

Pathetic.

Time.

As we grow older, we seem to take advantage of everything. Like, how we seem to be taking advantage of someone else's emotions. When we meet a stranger, we would try our best to not offend the person with our words and actions but as we get to know him, we just stop trying to care for his feelings. We start taking advantage of each other's feelings, shrugging it away. "He's my friend, he'll know that I'm just joking."

As we grow older, we also seem to lose our interest in wanting to know. Children are always starving for knowledge, always wanting to know how birds fly or why that man is walking in that manner. It's scary to know that as we grow older, we lose the want to know. We just stopped being curious. "It's like that." That's the kind of response I'll get for being curious at my age.

It is when we're too comfortable that we just stop trying. We stop trying to be nice to our friends. We stop trying to learn new things by observing. We just start assuming that friends will take it as a joke. We start assuming that we know everything there is to know because we've been living for years.

This is what I'm afraid of. Being too comfortable.

I'm not saying that I'm not guilty of this. I have my fair share of hurting friends and assuming that they'll understand.

I don't want to grow older, if this is what I have to deal with.

Infatuation. It makes me feel young and teenagerish again.

It's always fun to infatuate over cute guys without bothering about their intelligence or choice of vocabulary when speaking.

:)

Nice? Yes? I know right. It feels like home all over again.