Take joy in my sorrow, because I once said my parents were the best. I cannot deny the incomprehensible warmth that surrounds their presence but times like this, it's hard to grit my teeth and suppress my seething anger to say that they are perfect. So many flaws flood their conscience but parents so easily shove them aside, blinded by our own mistakes and a convenient excuse to shadow theirs. I am not handicapped to these and this hurts me, especially when they refuse to accept such incompetence. Who conferred such authority to them, the power to tower over our rights to question their abilities? They always remind us to have respect, but do the actually have any form of regard for us. Come bleak times they will raise other situations in which they had stepped forth and took the shock for us. But how can those measly chances speak for unending love? I speak no more because it evokes nothing more but deep-seated rage and this corrodes any form of humanity inside me.

Have been rather lost at home with nothing better to do. Sometimes, though really shocking, I desire to return to school with normal lessons. School ain't such a bore. It's only the terror of examinations and the fear of mother tongue that keeps my interest at bay. How sweet it'd be if education were actually a choice in itself, rather than propagandists' art.

Gone back to jog my memory on the 'Chosen One' and He-who-shall-not-be-named, in anticipation of the second-to-last movie! My cashflow is depleting fast and my wishlist is getting much longer. My desire for a Macbook seems kinda distant so that idea has to be scraped for now. I am now setting my eyes on an external hardrive, probably of at least 100gb size depending on its cost. I need one to store all the random games and movies that I download so often.

Running out of digital space.

Running out of life.

Where art thou take me?