Unload

 I am freeing my mind from the clutter by going directly to this blank page without a draft.

Am I really still happy with her?

I am affected 

but I also know I should stand by what is right. And what makes it difficult is the existing hurt she inflicted to me that can't be erased. I miss her face. I miss our talks. I miss when we play and talk sex. But is it all worth the drama and hurt?

I hope I am getting through Art and Dylan. Been trying hard to leave nuggets of wisdom so when I die, there'll be enough quotable quotes that I hope they'll use. Thinking bout it, I don't have any from my parents. 

God, please make me more affecting and inspirational to my kids. PLEASE.

Benadryl did not work last night.

IN OTHER NEWS

I feel my bandmates are laughing at me for being so serious about my craft and it depresses me. 

WE ARE IMAGINARY can't move without me. Everyone knows that, but they can't seem to appreciate the sacrifices I do with this band. I really need to focus at myself. 

I pray for new bandmates who can match my drive. Who believe in my vision. Who just love to play. Please.

Loneliness. Poverty. 

I hope someone will go to great lengths raising money for my treatment when I am ill, just like what people are doing back home for Peewee and here for Gab of Parokya. I am scared that noone will care.

Realized if I have a stroke right now or even a heart attack, nobody will check on me for days. The scent of decay will be my late cry for help. 

And here I am trying to be there for everybody.