I'm A Loser Baby So Why Don't You Just Kill Me

Fitful sleep. I just don't know why - I've been sleeping for long hours lately, but feeling less and less refreshed every following morning.

The circles around my eyes, they're testament to that.

==

Last night, I dreamt of having only a few days left to live before disease engulfs me.

==

Woke up to find dad awake, and not knowing where my mom went. She conveniently didn't tell him about how she's going out on some organised tour of Singapore kinda event, in an act of passive aggression.

They're barely on speaking terms, and they keep on bitching about each other. Family. Breaking up in front of my eyes.

Got on to making breakfast - cause there wasn't any on the table, and I knew dad's too incensed to fix up something suiting a Sunday. A quick survey of the freezer, and cobbled up some French toast.

Dad was bitching about mom in the kitchen right from I started defrosting the frozen bread to finishing the last slice of toast. Both parties, they have lethal missiles they wanna fire at each other, only that they don't have the guts to do it.

And so, poor me has to endure my dad's long showcase of verbal weaponry that he had never managed to use. And when dad is out and mom is at home, I'd then be treated to an equally long showcase of verbal weaponry from her side.

Listening, acting like I empathise with either party, making non-partisan comments, trying to avoid treading on verbal landmines.

==

I'm alone on a weekend again. Mulling over things in my room, sniffing the dank air that I've been stewing in.

I'm probably the only loser of my age who stays at home alone for the weekends. Except the paraplegics and the folks with severe mental impairment, those too frail to even feed themselves or even enunciate their thoughts, entirely dependent on ventillators and feeding tubes to stay alive.

It's sad that every weekend, I find myself having more in common with the infirm and the dying than my classmates and friends.

Friends? I dunno.

I guess I can't really call them friends, if they would refuse to hang out with me, giving some lame reason that reeks of "you're not that important to me, I'm too polite to say that straight in your face so I'm just going to pretend that I have some commitments I have to attend to". Believe me, I've tried and I've failed.

I'm just not important enough. There must be something about me that's intrinsically repulsive, for no human who tries this hard would fail in other circumstances.

Is it my personality? Probably.

Is it my looks? My mirror agrees. My blemished skin, the disgusting way the parts of my face seem to be pasted on by a 3 year-old, the rolls of fat.

Is it body odour? Halitosis? My gross ignorance of societal norms? The way I speak? The way I walk? Probably everything.

Once again, I find myself having more in common with the infirm and the dying than my classmates and friends. I'm probably as intrinsically repulsive as someone with birth defects, too retarded to be of any use to anyone, with reeking bedsores and disfiguring deformities.

==

The cars zoom past, probably with happy families heading to the mall for some family time. Or dating couples, his hand on hers. The elderly in the bus heading towards Chinatown, finding comfort in hanging out in the places they grew up in.

I'm stewing along in my room, like a worthless being left to die. A person shouldn't have to endure that much hurt. I'm trapped in my messed-up psyche, my deformed body and my repulsive self. While everyone just leads their own life, happy.

==

I've heard that euthanasia can be a worthwhile option for the infirm and the dying.