USB

imagine your insecurity box in the hand of god-knows-who

damn it. USBs are as personal as a fucking diary! ...

ok ok my bad. i'm just leaving it pretty much anywhere hence, when a dofous[i'm just upset that's why i'm referring to the person as dofous .. no offense. BITCH]needed one he thought he can use it ...


BUT don't they just freaking get it???
it is mine, mine freaking mine! ... it's not supposed to be lent to anyone to save fucking pictures in it ...

they're not even my pictures for pete's sake ...

aaaarrrrrrggggghhhh!!!!

i so fucking hate this, i've spent the last 3 days trying to come with a sensible blog post and this where i landed ... WHINING!

i know this doesn't sound like it's that big of a deal. you may even think that i'm just over reacting.

but ... it's my usb ... i write stuffs in it.

i have files that i know i should have deleted a long time ago but I just didn't have the heart to do.

i've been planning to delete some of it ... but i kept on planning and planning and never really had the guts to act on those plans ...

yeah i may have deleted some of it already, but ...

but ...

i dont know ... knowing how my tongue can be sharp at times i just chose to write my angst down instead of bursting out like a crazy person and smashing someone's face with a chair . i've written a fucking load of hateful things in it ... and if by chance someone accidentally read anyone of my evil writings i'd be turned into a wicked witch who needed to be burned alive.

you know how you used to be so scared of expressing yourself, you just choose to keep it all in. but then it's become too much for you to handle ... you figured a diary would do ... so you write, ... oh you felt so good after the long oppression ... it's good, it's fucking awesome ... until your pesky cousins[whose life's mission is to humiliate you every way possible] decided to read it out loud. even when you begged them to stop they wouldn't ... the just wanna see those tears running like pagsanjan falls.

but then somehow you felt relief, at least now they know ... maybe they will think what you've written over. ponder on it, then maybe after they're done laughing at you they will be nicer. but you're wrong. after that ... your damn feelings are turned into the joke of the century ... not minding if you feel insulted as long as it's funny to them .... you know that feeling too right? ... or was it just me? ... right?

ok ok ... it's just me. [and for the record i'm not embittered by what had happened in the past ... i just got carried away with the whole falsh back thing]


it's just that ... my stories are really personal for me ...
they're atories about my happy and sometimes pathetic life ...
i put my feelings in it.
happiness, frustrations, fears, fantasies ... all of it.

that usb has a portion of my messed up mind in it. and i'm just not comfortable with the idea that i don't know where it is. (well i do know who has it ... i just don know where it is exactly)

i really feel bad about it.

i just lost dapo-dapo out of my carelessness ... and now my USB is out there ... i've never been this paranoid about the content of my usb... i know no one would take interest ... but still,

damn it ... why am i so scared of my own damned writing? ...