Yesterday afternoon saw a semi-professional bum walking around the city with a friend, sharing a liter of Coke and a bag of chips, criss crossing the roads, battling cockroaches and mentally-deranged men with dogs as their only friends.
I wish i'd lugged around my camera and my tripod. Offer to people what would be perhaps a glimpse of the last few things i'd seen before i slit my wrists, or jump off the 31st floor. Watch the video while a black coffin sits silent surrounded by blue flowers. i hate the colored ones.
Histrionic. Big L on the forehead.
Intresting finds along the way included five jackets and a skirt, partly subsidized by a friend under the condition that they will be circulated amongst us three girls. Very agreeable.
Last night, i discovered that the aunt intended to spark a guilt trip in my already demented head by telling me that the grandmother is suffering from cancer. No cancer actually. But then again, aren't we all suffering from it.
I texted the mother about my situation and how i am incapable of the burden they are throwing at me. Silence. Thanks a lot. Moral of the story: too many children are not God's blessings. Think before you fuck.
This morning the sister refused to get out of bed to fetch the brother, newly arrived from Cagayan de Oro, who is now under my broken wing. She says she's had no sleep due to reasons i cannot name here.
Both our futures remain to be bleak and in salvage.
On the way to work this morning, i'd thought of jumping into a confessional box, tell the priest i'd lost faith, maybe he can ask God for me what He plans to turn me into. Or ask Him for me if He at least has any plans to show me what to do. I've not enough faith anymore to beleive i'm not talking to air.
