White-Collar Blabber.

Apparently, my silence is annoying a lot of people. Even my father, whom I’ve always thought goes into competitions of silence with dead fish – and eventually wins, can’t tolerate my silence. But what do I have to say? I don’t have anything to say to anyone, not even here, even though that’s supposedly an anonymous blog and all. In fact, I hate this blog, because all I ever blabber about lately is personal outbursts, and I have no fucking clue why are you here reading this. It’s bitter to admit it or write it down and then read it later. It highlights the fact I’ve already reached, that nobody has control over anything. Oh, I miss the good old days, when I thought and people thought I am a master of puppets and I am the control goddess that they look up to when they’re lost. No, that’s another lie, I don’t miss those days, and I wouldn’t want them to be back, no, no, not at all. I don’t want anyone to believe in me, it sets standards. And I fight standards now. I fight standards so hard, that if you saw them standards, you’ll find explicitly sadistic scars on its bloody face. I mean let’s face it, my greatest fear was mediocrity, now I don’t fear it anymore – I embrace it with devotion. There was once shining glamour inside my chest, which attracted travelling wanderers, and now it’s gone. There was once a business I led and my title was “The Dream Merchant”, but not anymore. And in mediocrity, I am lying around - in sloth and sweet laziness. At least, I admit it.

I pray my father stops getting annoyed with my silence… but that’s the maximum I can do about it.