Envy/Envied

Jealousy's the cousin. The cousin of Greed.

Money collecting season so far; Not stoked. Not as productive when this lad was still running around merrily. Other kids raking in the notes like they earn it. Mothereffs. Food? Same shit, special day. Mothereffin' Parmigiana was the most memorable. Partially because it was in a 'fancy' restaurant and I didn't finish it. Even while sharing with Perfection. Looked dashing in the tailor-made vintage suit of some sort. It's so Awesome it doesn't have a term for it. I don't do traditional Baju Melayu. A twist and/or a unique touch is inevitable. Just like the old Asian(as in, Chinese or other similiar looking races. Yes, stereotyped.)-influenced blue jacket-like piece of Awesome. I miss that.

The Rings of Perfection Meets Awesomeness exchanged. The night of first Eid. Mom's reaction wasn't as shocked. Damn. Father was the interrogator of the night. Little sister talked about.. studies. Hah. Must've been hell for her as I watch from across the room. Scoffs, snickers, et al.

Got to know Father's cousin from his mother's side, twice-removed. No, not really. Always wanted to say that. An old lady with a posh house and various cars ranging from Merc to... other Mercs. But she lives alone. Charmed my way into making it the weekly weekend getaway. Come anytime I want. Just ring the bell. I am Loved by many. Hated easily.

Introduced to young kids a couple of nights before Eid. Fucking adorable to say the least. Nurulol. Can't stop saying it that night. Didn't get to see The Sarah Pout from, well, Sarah. I like Lanee's name. And Elle, my goodness, be my daughter. The lads? I hate rich kids. I'm not included. Alright, rephrased; I hate rich kids with dads that aren't cheap. I was 16 when I drove the Merc. Beaten by 2 bloody years. And they're huge. I was a midget at that age. Are they fed testosterone? Fuck. For the lad that complimented me on my blog for it's good sense of English (really? Nah.) I don't know what to say. I'm not used to this. Thank you? I know how Myra felt that day now.

Recently, met Aniss. And her beau. She doesn't think I'm a stalker. At least she didn't say it. Hah. No, I'm not if you're wondering "Is he?". Deeya, first time. And her beau. Good job by the way, pun intended, teeth gritted, laughter held. Moving on. Old flame of Perfection. And his beau(s)? Snares, toms, cymbals, you know the drill. "I've been popping pills because I can't actually scream for attention right? That would be too obvious." as opposed to fake suicide attempts? Right. Those hommes for femmes though, kids with dramas are hilarious. He doesn't actually like him because he talks behind their backs so he talks behind his back to other people's back. Then they turn around, they're all smiling at each other. Quality right there. Quality. Never had that, so it was funny. My words comes out from my fist anyways.

Now I realized. Why did I typed all that?

Fuck off. I'm not here to entertain you.

Here's a little something something for The Perfect.

To see you when I wake up is a gift I didn't think would be real. To know that you feel the same as I do is a three-fold Utopian dream.

I'm done.
Afan.