Funny thing about going through a lot of emoness and change: you tend to think more. Also, in thinking more, I tend to become less retarded and – dare I say it – introspective. So laugh at me all you want, but I actually want to write something that makes sense for once. Sort of.

So dear reader, join me as I look inside myself, and make that journey for me to discover who I am.


I’ve realized some things about myself that I am sure will be helpful when I deal with the future. Strangely though, I think all this introspection is kind of dangerous. I find myself spacing out more often than usual, or suddenly blurting out stuff like “Maybe I’ve been too much of a douchebag, and I need to get in touch with my inner child to rediscover my lost innocence” in the middle of a heated discussion regarding the new policy at work. Then my officemates would just stare at me blankly while I proceed to weep and light incense all around me, after which I do the Lotus position and hum Kula Shaker’s Govinda.

Speaking of my inner child, I do wonder how much I can stand my inner child or how much my inner child can stand me. Because, seriously, I’m not really good with kids. Kids cry when placed in my immediate vicinity. And I don’t think I have the patience to deal with kids. And I like to play evil tricks on them. Oh joy. So I’m guessing an encounter between me and my inner child will turn out this way:

Inner Demon Child Me: So you’re my inner child, eh?
Inner Child: Um, yeah.
Me: I heard you can help me rediscover myself.
Inner Child: You see, I’m just a kid and all, so I really have no idea how I can do that for you. I’m just contented with running in the fields, eating cotton candy all day, and being hugged and loved by the people around me!
Me: Honestly, my childhood was never as good as you’ve described. What. The. Fuck.
Inner Child: Gosh, you said the F word!
Me: What? F word? Fuck?
Inner Child: You’re gonna make Baby Jesus cry!!!
Me: Eh?
Inner Child: Bad words! Bad words! Bad words!
Me: Kid, kid… calm down, calm down…
Inner Child: …Bad words! Bad words! Bad words! Bad words! Bad words! BAD WORDS! BAD WORDS!
Me: Oh dear lord, just shut the fuck up!
Inner Child: *stares at me in shock, with quivering lower lip and watery eyes*
Me: Oh no, please don’t tell me you’re gonna cry.
Inner Child: (in a small, shaky voice) I’m gonna cry.
Me: (slaps palm on forehead) Fuck, no.

Tell me, is there a penalty of any sort if we make our inner kids cry? And are they covered by child protection laws? Will Bantay Bata 163 go after me?

Anyway, I just realized that I really do suck at living. Thank you very much, journey of self-discovery for further degrading the little bit of self-esteem I have. I have to cry again, brb.

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