Wednesday, December 01, 2004

.:Is This Even A Request?:.

As I was playing "In My Life" by Patti Austin, someone asked me to play "Better Days" by Diane Reeves right afterwards over the textline. Either this was a freaky coincidence, or someone knows that I love playing those two songs one after the other...

Ran into JayBee today and just chatted with her. She seems to be doing fine. Ran into an old high school classmate who's taking a second degree. Really smart guy, and I think he's heard that I teach already. Wonder where the news came from. Spent some time bonding with Dominique. Cards, talking about business, and dinner at Wham. No big deal, really...

.:Misfortune Piles Up:.

I can't quite begin to explain how distressing this whole day happens to be... LSS to follow when I collect my thoughts, but I have half an hour here in an internet cafe so I better make this post count...

My morning started off on a frenetic pace: I was looking for my digital camera which seems to have simply disappeared without a trace. It's really sad because that camera has a lot of sentimental value to it, and if it disappears, I'd find it particularly saddening.

Couple that with the fact that my back and neck hurt like Hades. I really need to avail of a massage one of these days...

And of course. Amazing how simply unprofessional someone I was trading with could get. We had a verbal agreement that he's selling me his Mishra's Workshop and Mana Crypt. Lo and behold, next thing I know, I ask him about the cards, and he sold them to someone else. The ruddy bastich didn't hold his end of the bargain. How annoying can that be?

A grand idea came across me this morning. Too bad I lost the idea in the middle of my boardwork. And I thought Waveback Wednesdays couldn't do me wrong... I was mistaken. Fatally mistaken.

.:And I Then Realized...:.

And finally... I am whisked under the rug again. Treated like some generic random punk who can be given any tried and tested formula just to be satiated. There's no sense in recognizing him to be different, right? It's sad, really. Marcelle doesn't deserve this crap, even from you. Especially not from you.

I pour my heart out, and in the end, all I get are some randomly generated words of consolation. I guess I really am not of value, then. That would've been fine and dandy, if you actually were honest enough to tell me so. But no, you and your effing mind games, effing emotional games, all conspire to give me the constant illusion that I actually mean something to you.

But I realize it now.

I'm nothing to you. I'm just this little tool to you that you can pick up when you find it novel and cute, then quickly discard when the novelty is worn out.

I'm nothing to you. All this talk about us being close, all this talk about us sharing a special kind of friendship, are nothing but lies you perpetuate just so I'd stay by your side.

I'm nothing to you. What happens in my life does not interest you one iota as much as the chance for me to hear your stories again that you so love hearing yourself tell interest you. My insignificant existence is little more than a source of amusement for you.

I'm nothing to you. I can't get under your skin no matter how I try, nor can I ever be the cause to brighten up your day, either. I simply don't rate enough to somehow be able to affect you.

And yet here I still am, fool that I am, here for you.

Do you even care?

I didn't think so, either.

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