Diary of the jobless begins.

April the fucking 6th. Year of the fucking Ox, 2009.

I am officially fucking jobless and after one and a quarter year, I have time on my hands to do things that will not make sense.

I can now look up at the ceilings and wonder what colour should I paint it.

I can stay up all night blasting my music out loud on the headphones and eventually pass out.

This is too much free time I have here.

It is beginning to scare me as to how free I would be for some time to come. I will cease to have a mission in life. My days ahead look somewhat like a big black hole. This entire vortex of morbid misery will suck me whole in the space of a week.

Motherfucker. I do not need a panic attack now.

I do not know what I intend to do with my life now.

I'm 23. People whom I know intimately call me Ella Bella. I am fucking jobless. I still behave like a 16 year old. I wish I can live off my parents for the next few months but I can't. Not when they've been living off me.

And right now, I pretty much don't give two fucks about their misery over the fact that I have managed to lose my bloody job. They need to realize that the world evolves around me and my misery. Not theirs.