literati, poison, and ennui

I like reading. I prefer horror, young adult, erotica, and some works of fiction which covers the topic of feminism, fashion, counter culture, etc. Although I do read outside of these genres, mother seems to think that it would be easy for me to read books on business and management and other corporate bullshit. She wants me to learn how to help improve her company but frankly, reading those kinds of literature bores me to death. I guess you can say I refuse to open a book on personnel management or similar.

I didn’t go to work all week. I am lucky because I can get away with it but it doesn’t mean I am happy. I don’t like the way I am. I know I am a big disappointment. But I refused to go to work because mother stopped giving me my sleeping pills. I am very addicted to them but they make me happy. It is wrong, I know. I should know better since I am smart. But what can I say? Addiction is addiction is addiction. I even stopped taking my anti-depressant since I don’t think they are working anyway.

I know most of the time, I am directionless. I would rather lose myself in films, literature, the net, and other media for escapism. Reality and me do not mesh. I used to have a great social life, hanging out with the scenesters. Being a poseur and shit. But in the end, I felt like I was bitten by a viper for something I am still confused about. So I bid sayonara to the so-called cool lifestyle and became a recluse. It wasn’t enjoyable at all. I was very very depressed and alone. I have somehow regained a semblance of a social life since I came back from the US but it feels lacking. I miss the excitement. Everything is so tame right now. My life’s drama right now is all in my head and there’s no point in that. I could go back to my old lifestyle but my pride prevents me from doing so. I can add to that my sanity.

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