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The REAL LIFE version of the story: It's another night again when I cannot afford the medication for my borderline personality disorder, schizophrenia, and asperger syndrome. People think I'm going nuts, but I do think I'm going entirely bonker since I'm starting to imagine of my ability to find a guy who can afford a car who is not a cab driver in his lifetime. So here I am again sipping the last milo fuze I've got and trolling the gay forum. I imagine again... When I heard a loud sudden bang and double loud beeps in the building carpark, I knew it was you – returning from the bar/sauna...and as soon as the smell of smoke and alcohol got closer followed by a bitchy slutty laughter...I knew you're bringing back another guy again...sometimes more than one. It's not your fault at all because my ass is already very loose from the rough sex we had, lubricated by the mint and lavender aroma oil I thought would help reduce the smell of the shitty place we live in, because you're always too lazy to go to 7-eleven to restock durex. The house is in a mess like always because you always do those guys on the floor, one the couch, in the bathroom, or you would just push me down the bed when I was snoring like a swine. I never cooked, not even tea. How do you cook tea? I always consider ordering pizza and sushi romantic, at least it's better than always eating McD for dinner. I think that's why I've been gaining much weight lately and you haven't been doing me for almost one year now...but in real you have never done me at all, so nevermind that. I always love them ang mohs, thick and big and huge and hard, so this time an American tourist I knew online who thought that I'm still as slim as my picture 3 years ago stopped by the house to get lucky (or not). He didn't know what to do when he reached our place to see a fat ugly bitch opening the door and trying to seduce him and not letting him go at all. He got angry and confused he gave me a punch. So that's the story how I got black and blue on my left eye part. This is crazy but I also expect the imaginary guy to remember my birthday. Like I'm very important or anything. And I'm chuckling as I type this. I picture myself wearing a miniskirt and tight tank blouse with thick make up and lipstick. I don't know why but other passengers look like they were wondering if I'm a human or king kong because I have very hairy legs and arms. And I am taking my origami folding business as very serious matter that require me flying to japan to restock with the latest paper designs. I went to the post office and Japan and the attendant asked me if I'm cosplaying as sadako. You went to the Japanese bathhouse without me and I was left to sleep in mos burger near our cheap motel everyday. But that was all only imagination or was it real. I don't know. I try slapping my face, soaking my head into the toilet pushing the button to flush teh crazy away but failed, I even drank a bit of the water accidentally. I think I'm going to hit my head with a baseball bat again so that I can sleep. Bye for now.