It has been often said that one should never anger a nice person, because their anger can reach distances more than those who often blurt out lines of hatred out of sheer habit. I say otherwise. I say one should never make a normally-indifferent person have only an hour's sleep, else he ends the day with an extremely mushy and affectionate blog entry which, if one knew he was in the right head, one would have laughed his arse off.

That isn't case though. And although being one of the objects of such affections may more often than not flatter me, the idea of those things being said through half-asleep bodily systems just doesn't quite match my Romanticist side. Oh, but sometimes the world works differently, doesn't it?

It works the same way my half-asleep eyelids, the same ones which forced me to not finish the post before this, somehow blackmailed me into writing this new one amidst all the clatter in my head telling me it's time to get to bed and feel the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders even for just a few more hours. The impulse is hard to ignore because as of late there's this resurrecting habit of mine, the one that writes impulsively and out of sheer whim...

Fine. Fine, damn it. If the world comes to an end tomorrow anyway then I might as well get gooey all over so I die a happy, embarrassed human being.

Fine. I am an individualist. Fine. I have commitment issues. Yes, I dislike being around people for extended periods of time (although it does not show, because contrary to one of my close friends, I do tend to be nice to strangers). Yes, I hate being stuck to a single group. But now, like a bunch of metaphorical, brain-bleaching hurricanes wrecking havoc through and past all my defenses, which were never strong to begin with, I find myself stuck in the middle of another rampaging insanity which constitutes of a couple of people whose identities I can completely relate with. It does not come as a surprise that I like them. Unlike others, I don't find it difficult to be so honestly blind of the folly and vices of others. But there is something about Them that makes you think otherwise. The kind of feeling you get when you act without thinking. One moment you find yourself in their company, the next you start to wonder why ever did you come with them. Because I see them. I see their faults, the errors of their whims, the frequent incoherent dialogues between everyone, and I'm sure they see my faults too, each and every one of them, but I see them in their totality more than I ever saw any other people in my life. Reluctant as I may be to admit this, but I think I know them now more than I ever knew my best friend.

These bunch of people made me realize how little I ever knew of life before I met them ----

Oh, there's the eyes again. Lucky for me, I don't have to end this mushy bit of cheese.

Unlike some people who weren't able to control their mushy impulses.


Yes. I'm talking to you, Prunus.