a Midnight Fissure

i am

v.0.0.1

i am the kind of person who lives within infinite boxes, like those Japanese dolls (Miss the alleged kat, prithee help me out! Dewi, you!) what’s it called¿

i am the kind who do not open up even after 2 am. naahaan.

i am the kind that talk almost nada in person, but tears up those Japanese boxes(?) (ugh again! i’m so ignorant) by sheer touch of fingers while texting.

i am the kind who reads all the nerdy thick books, (or at least pretends to — them hypocrites, spoilt me) be it any century from, and pin Beyoncé’s twins’ news on his Twitter. Congratz Beyhive🐝

i am the kind that listens to those R&Bs and pretend to empathize with the ‘black’, even though i am hued yellow myself, and in one-sided love with an oriental-black (this is completely different flavor) gurl

i am the kind who reading, listening to Anna Breslin’s ‘erotic’ (no offence) voice presumes that he could write and record in the same passionate manner…yeah, right!

i am the kind that could fall in love at first sight: be it just a glance on your writing and your little profile pic of/over Medium, with you, Seth Lyon. There, i said my crush out! happy little me, neglecting how sick and twisted this makes me look, seeing that i already know that he’s in a happy relationship already (i used this word again, didn’t i! what a loser writer), and et al. But yeah, whatever! this is goin on my profile, (i may feature it there as well), and I had to shout my heart out any way, or it’d add to the already tons of depression, and inches deep dark circles neath the oculars, so yeah, did i shout out properly?! Seth Lyon, Seth, Seth.. now i feel…enough. and you, Mr. fun-eye-candy, you better watch your twitter handle — i’ma stalk you soo hard.

ps- dont block me there please, please, beggin please🙏🙇…how would I satiate my crush then😘 and i — we are waiting for the next installment of ‘Becoming’; when you gonna write it up? (must you know, we readers looove to privy our way into people’s lives. yup, that’s what we do.)

where were i….yeah! i am the kind that reads Lady Gaga’s simplest, most probably stolen, quotes and feel myself all RiRi-type-road-style model, but walking down dirtier roads, in more clothes instead.

i am the kind that after getting just a bit of my wings open couldn’t keep appreciation reaching my head, (woohooo! Rachel Green got champagne stuck up her/his up-tight blonde/ebon head), and snap on family, and exploit all the intel that Ivana Knezevic shared with me. responsibiling me as elder bro, and i sucked, soo hard.😢 you must be like, what a loser! and i’ma like what an ammateur. soul. have i ever been in a real, firm relationship myself, ever. EVER.

khudahafiz sis’o. dont hate me.

i am the kind that try to write poetry, and non-fictive-imitations of Michael Ramsburg , while tryin to fight my one-millionth re-thought of how i could have been in San Francisco univ by now, and fuck whatnot (did i rant about my ‘pain of the poet’ yet¿ alright, that’s worth another poem, another time, promise)…see! i fuckin can’t stop rethinking — so this would be, a million-and-oneth. hmmm, where’s that deep-in-thoughts emoji missing from my android. ugh, this sucks…nor have my rolling-eyes mojis here, nor face-palm. wtf. whose phone is this.

a-n-y-w-a-y.

i am the kind who tries to encourage Sujata/Sujata Iglesias (which one is you, Poo😗), to never give her self up, to never quit, and never be be-littled down no matter what happens; knowing that she won’t be seeing this almost about a month later now…but, you know you can always stand under my Umbrella, Poo😘 tc. ttyl. Ayesha’s home for Eid, but won’t/can’t see me😢

did i forget to mention what more am i….perhaps, i did. Will tell ya’ll later. tomorrow night, same time (hopefully). same place: bound within my four walls of a room (house, not a home, perfect here, eh Tamyka? what say!?) this ain’t no drunk text…haha, no way! what am i, an amateur high schooler (rolling-eyes moji, i need you so bad…) and i sing on, lamely (..‘i need it so bad, i’ll give you everything, just so’….fill the blanks, up ahead - clue: Alicia Keys lyrics, any R&B fangirl/boy here, anyone…uff, supah suckfest).

i am the kind that must sleep, or at least try to now. *with rounding my lips more, and more, in the worse fake British accent possible* it’s bloody 3 in the am here, good sire! Ta Ta! Fare thee well! (do they still use from this vocab!¿ probably, only an ol’ desperate romantic like me does now, only me.😅) Adele. send my love to your new lover. what a shade.😘

pps- see Tre, if i don’t get a therapist soon, this is what will become of me… ‘becoming’, oh reminds me of you babe Seth…*clears throat* sorry, can’t help it — but he’s so cute, and well endowed (mentally), ugh!— where was i, yeah, Tre, i guess i should avoid therapy, for now, seeing if it will yield such posts, (let’s endure it for a bit longer, and let time heal,) or non fiction….yay! see Elisabeth Khan, the ‘comittment’ you talked about the other day of non fiction: i sticked to it. Shirley i am actually a baby😘😘😘.love you💕. Literally.😜 hehe…just turned 20, though didn’t want to, but couldn’t help it…tryin my best to be humble, K. Lamar. now sitting (sleeping) down.

[can’t believe just the first part took 5 fuckin mins! woah, i should speak less and write more now…hmm, i wonder, should i write the rest of the parts too…i wonder! (the decision’s made already, don’t try to sway me: you have no say in this😂) lmao..just kidding, rant, most welcome]

‘Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day..’ ~you know who