What the hell is wrong with me? One minute I'm so excited and the next I'm cursing the whole world. I know that I can't leave the house and not see someone I know. Even when I got to McDonalds (any branch, man) I get to see someone I know. Or at least, someone who's familiar. This morning, I left the house having that giddy feeling, wondering who I'll see today, or if I'll even see someone today. It's been a staple in my life that if I go out, I make it a point to feel happy. I'll leave all the bitterness at home, even though that's highly unhealthy. I should be leaving the unhappiness outside the house so I can be peaceful at home. I can't seem to do that, I feel out of place in my own home.

Well, guess what, I actually texted today. And it benefited me. Communicating with friends is quite and awesome thing. I was hyper, I was texting and I became extremely hyper and my too-random-to-be-functional humor got out of hand--again. And only I could understand myself. I sent Ian B. a message telling him that I'm hyper because for some incomprehensible reason, the lunatic understand my humor. *smug grin* And guess what? He said he couldn't go OL because he was at MedCity. And do you know where I was? MEDCITY! Ha. Is that cool or what? Anyway, I pulled Tricia downstairs so I could say hello to Braga, then guess who I saw? I heard someone call my name and then *dumdumdumdum* I saw Pao Impe! Here's the really, really cool thing, two minutes before he called me, I was talking my sister about him! I forgot what we were talking about, but what the hell. That's pretty amazing. It's like some sort of a mind-reading powerd of fate? It's freaky, but then, it always, always happen. I talk about someone, and it's like some kind of magic and I conjure the person! Next thing I know, he/she will be in the same place as me! Woah. I'm still waiting for my Hogwarts letter, some witches are late bloomers, you know?

And so I got my injections. It's one of those series-of-injections things, I come back twice a month. You see, Dra. *what's her name?* diagnosed me with breast cancer, and I have to go back to have injections that would kill the tumor. It actually sucks, everytime I go there, I have to strip down to my pants, and she'll be examining my chest, while Mom and Trish had their eyes closed. Okay, you got me. I'm totally kidding. The injection was anti-ovary cancer, plus it prevents HIV or other STDs. Hel-lo? Me? Bee? Contracting HIV? I don't think so...unless my future husband would have HIV? Well, hell. I weigh 2 or 3 kilograms more than I used to weigh (last month). That's 4.4-6.6 pounds gained! Ha. How incredibly uplifting--not.

I went to Megamall after, and I felt like shit. I hated life. I hated the way my Mom think of the helps and the driver as stupid. No one's stupid. No one's perfect! And if there's anyone out there who never, ever, had a sin or forgot something, let him or her cast the first stone. But please. I know, I know, Mom's having a hard time with all her sicknesses but it doesn't serve as an excuse. If there's one thing I learned from Assumption, it's to respect everyone and everything. Yep. That's why I'm friends with the helps. They know more about than my crushes than my parents do! And oh yeah, I felt shitty because my Mom was feeling shitty and it carried over to me. It's one of those contagious moods, you know what I mean? I began to get pissed, and hate my Mom. Then going home, she had this gur-wrenching pain attack and she was clutching her appendix and she was groaning and screaming, and that's when I realized: I love my Mom and I'm not ready to lose her. I wish I had all her sickeness and pain so that she'll be there to take care of my other siblings.

I know I'm not that into having my siblings rival me for the driver and the van (I can't drive the other car till I'm 16--or till I'm a legitimate adult--and I can't possibly have my Dad drive me in his car! Haha. He's a Dad, not a driver.) I need my own driver! WOAH. And I cried. I cried at the passiveness of my life. I'm just so bored. I hate concentrating in school. I don't want to get very good grades if that's in place of fun-fun-F-U-N! Fuck that 100 for Geom, and that other 100 for the next Geom test, fuck that English 100 and all the other ridiculously boring grades. No one cares about it in the real world. I mean, I don't, so why would others even care? Ha. Grades are just numbers, and no one would want to ever hear of them again. I think I'd much rather fail--or not fail-fail, just normal fail. But still! It's just that my Mom always tell me to stop studying, and I can't tell her that I have nothing better to do since she thinks me going out is such a nuisance that she doesn't allow me to have the driver and the van all to myslef for a day. Now, how the hell am I going to unfocus from my studies if they won't give me a chance! They don't have a right to complain. NO. NO. Big fat letter N, followed by a fatter O! Fuck you. Screw your screwed minds. Pun not intended. I just don't like it that they see me as one of the kids. I'm not a kid anymore! News flash: They can change the rules, man. They can alter it to meet halfway!

I need to cry, I have too much of estrogen, like my Mom. I hate being the bearer of the X-chromosome! Why can't I have been born male, with all the freedom and the life? OR WHY COULDN'T I HAVE HAD AN OLDER BROTHER! If I ever get out of my prison cell and form my own family...I won't trap them in a jail I created. I'll raise them the way my parents raised me, with the values, but, I won't restrict them the way my parents restrict me. They can learn from their mistakes. I won't make them learn from mine--not that I'll have a chance to commit them, coz I won't.