Thursday, August 26, 2010

When I rattle on my thought of independence

it writhes my consciousness in staccato.

If Independence can be categorized into Physical Independence and Mental Independence I am bloody sure I'll score a turd in the latter aspect. Or may be both.
Spending 6 years in boarding school definitely didn't expunge me from the list of sybaritic tyke.

I am still loath to do my laundry.
I need a slave.
I am irascible.
Don't you ever comment on my frailty if you don't want to taste my callous exasperation.

Although my mind constantly hypnotizing myself, saying I am a fully fledged teen and I can drink coca-cola as much as my dad does, in fact it isn't hard to find out the same inscrutable mind's avarice for being coddled by his mum.

ibu is a prettie. She has long and slender legs.

Well I get miffed when my mum calls me 5 times a day but still..ibu is ibu. She gotta do what she gotta do.

Like other housewives, my mum loves to tell me all the gossips in my neighbourhood. Indeed my sister finds it very mou liew and always complains my mum talks too loud to the phone, strangers on 10 streets away can hear my mum unbearable lovely laughter.

Nonetheless I think this is her kinda odd and unique modus operandi to let us know where we belong to after spending those countless days apart from the neighbourhood.

I totally inherited her leg gene.

Frankly I enjoy the way my mum starts our new day together with a cup of morning milk and the story of her friend's dentist daughter.

Ooy how about your squawk about being an independent and intelligent young man then?

Well I don't mind strangers peering at me in toilet as like I can feel their eyes burning a hole in the back of my head while I attempt to force out a pitiful amount of urine that can constitute a piss, if you consider this as a special part of deviated independence..


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