something. something.

Something, something.

I just feel the need to keep myself busy right now while I’m waiting.

Something, something. Something, something.

I don’t know what it is about checking other people you know in Facebook, particularly those with whom you shared some sort of relationship with in the past. It’s hard to dig up feelings that you would have wanted to forget. Possibilities and permutations that keep coursing through your head as you browse through the married photos and then the punchline: that kid. What if and what could have beens that never would have been, honestly speaking, of course not, admit it, they would never be that happy, if it would have been you in that picture. That picture of happiness would have been diminshed a bit, for all those times that you have spent stalking this person from your past online, you have already established it as a given: it would not have really worked. Really, it would not have really been you all the while. You just know this person so well, you just think you know yourself that well to tell and proclaim that fact as a given, even before you actually clicked on the link. The status update would have given it away. You were never really meant to be.

But that’s exactly the thing: why do you torture yourself anyway? Why did you go ahead and click on her name anyway? What the hell are you doing? You don’t really know, or maybe you’re just in denial. Th truth is, what’s gone is gone, and it is what it is. While they’re off to living their so-good-to-be-true lives in eternal bliss, thankfully without you in it except for some resemblance of your virtual self added as a hidden Facebook friend, you’re here, waiting for something to happen, still stuck in same job, financially enaging as it may seem but personally unfulfilling, at least not yet from your current perspective, wasting all your talents away, lacking in passion, killing time cyber-stalking some old flame.

Something, something. Something… kjhdfljkahsdifuyasidufkjhd… thing.

Light bulb: somewhere, somehow, by virtue of some cosmic karma or cybernetic algorithm, yes, I just threw those words around because it sounds cool and I am pathetic, someone might be looking at you the same way. Stalking your every status update, keeping up with your Mafia Wars body count, and trying hard to laugh at most or your retweets or reposted link online, which, upon giving much thought about it, aren’t really that funny. And you keep this stupid blog. Yes, like she’d really check that. Reeeally? Reeeeeeealy? Honestly, she doesn’t even exist. Not yet. No, she won’t. Ever. Ever, ever. Evah.

Fine. Fine, shithead, fine. Now go do something productive, something that warrants your remotely ridiculous pay. Did something just die here, or did you just throw a superfart?!? Jeez.


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