coffee?

this is going to be a very depressing post. i warned you beforehand.
now turn around and leave if you know what's best for you.

the drink sat before me, untouched, as i took my book out of my bag.
with me, the accoutrement of a high school girl.
having read 24 chapters of shanghai baby, i feel oddly connected to it.
maybe, without knowing it, the author had composed a tale of her own life which seem to have a lot of similarities with my own.
maybe that's why i feel connected with it.
my favourite phrases from the book are highlighted.

: 'only through that intense bonding could we have faced the extreme terror of imminent death. the only theory of Freud's i find convincing is the mystical link between the instinct to live and the instinct to die.'
: ' Time's high-speed train whistled and rumbled through modern tower blocks into the distance. my teard meant nothing. the joys and sorrow of any one person meant nothing, because the train's massive steel wheels never stop spinning for anyone. this is the secret that terrifies everyone in the cities in this fucking material age.'
: 'they never speak, but a certain tacit understanding exists, and occasionally when one of them fails to appear, the other feels inexplicably sad and disoriented.'

those are the few of my favourites with many more to uncover and discover.
what image do i carry?
in a uniform, with her school bag and clutching a cigarette?
with shaking hands, either from fear or pain?
even i don't know it myself.
why do i bother making my identity clear?
since no one really bothers?
as a friend said last friday night, i give the impression of an egg.
easy to break and crush.
unsafe, a danger to herself.
hence, the need to protect the egg surfaced within his heart.
why do i feel the need to please all those around me?
knowing very well that no one really bothers?
all people care about is making a fool out of that person and laughing into his/her face when whatever they planned to do actually succeed.
yes. the nature of mankind.
why do i bother??
why?...
i could barely lift my hands to move.
just sat thinking and pondering.
what's the point?
that's right.
no point at all.

the drink is filled with tears.

i had said that its a depressing post.