Destruction.

He gets mysterious every time.

A week of school works have passed. I am still not over with what happened last night. Tequila shots along with lime and salt, dancing with only boxers and shirts, horror films on the DVD player yet having no time to watch because all we ever did last night is a bunch of fun. Watching a movie didn’t pass our standards of having fun that night. We only woke up at 2pm, with my friends snoring and looking beaten-up from last night’s.

As I arrived in our apartment at 6pm, things went from loud into silence. Such a very usual shift every time I got home. I started my shower and brought along my phone with me. This era, I’m thankful of the technology of having a multi-functional phone. Playing music is my favorite part. The music paused for a second and I heard a beep, and then it continued playing Ke$ha’s ‘We R Who We R’. It must be him. As I finished my shower, including my night routine, I lay in my bed.

“When are you going to treat me?”, I desperately asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll just tell you when this jam-packed schedule ends.”

Story of my life. I must have been a masterpiece of the Lord of all failures. Because each time I step on the line, things get fuzzy. All of these come in perpetual exchange of messages, be it texts or from any social networking sites. But it never go further than that. Never did.

Narcissism is my guilty pleasure. I know I have this hunger for attention. I am aware of the fact that I use people, to drive them in my way, to get the attention. So as to let people talk about me. I’ve always had this desire to be envied by many. I wanted people to be in my place. I wanted to be loved, even if it comes in a share of shallow.

But what they do not know is that I envy them.

But every time I stumble to the constant ending of every scenario of my every actions like this, self-abnegation vanishes in my whole system and the embattlement starts causing myself to have this self-inflicted pain. The truth is, I have self-doubts. Low esteem, which irritates me that Maslow got it all right. I have to make him love me, to make me feel high. True as he says, Love and Belongingness comes before Self-Esteem. I don’t feel loved in spite of the efforts of getting the attention. I feel like I am not a part of this world, paradoxical to my actions of using people to be talked about.

*fiction

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