but last sunday, as if dejavu had occured, yet again (pun intended), the scratches on my wrist and forearm were evident enough that i was still alive and kicking. the cut was rather deep. i could feel the pain, and when i feel pain, it must be really terrible. as we all know, my pain threshold is beyond the roof. ask them, they could testify to that.
if this cut was inflicted by me on me, then i would feel all my resentment and anger and hate melt away. flowing away like the gush of blood making its way out of my vessels. the sting gives me an adrenaline rush that sets me in a temporary high. which i actually kinda need right now because i am forbidden to care, but i am terrified to forget.
anywho... i am not suicidal now la...
the bigger picture. if you look closely, you could actually see the bite mark. wish it was Edward Cullen that bit me. but instead.....
....i was bitten by this furball! that is why i hate flat-pan smacked-faced cats. they are so effing snobby and they think that everyone wants to cuddle them. puh-leeezzz.....!!!
but then again, probably it was an act of defence when my friends were pressuring it to pose for the camera. it already looked totally irritated by the whole situation. and i wanted to give it a cat massage to loosen it up. instead, my sincere act of kindness was replied by revenge that was vent out at the wrong person.
i guess being sincerely nice is such a taboo these days huh?