I happy am. I think. But since I think , so therefore I am, right? NOT!

I'm feeling happy today. Well, quite at least. I don't know why. Perhaps the endorphins from the no nut famous chocolate chip cookies kicked in. -shrugs-

Anyway, I was doing some thinking about a conversation I had with Miss Brownie. If my memory serves me right, i remember discussing something along the lines of what ethics is. She was saying that ethics is for the priveliged. As in, not everyone should loosely say they are Ethical because they do blablabla; in other words the word ethics shouldn't be used so loosely.

I was mentioning to her that the definition of what is or isn't ethical is pretty much ambiguous - what do you define as ethics or being ethical? I was saying it was pretty much subjective and like the over told story of the man who steals medication for his sick dying wife because he can't afford it. Is it wrong, or right? Purists would say that just by stealing, he's already wrong because he has broken a law which is a criminal offence. Sympatheti(zers) or sympathetic people would think otherwise. Sort of like a use your heart over your head situation, yes? -shrugs-

Aiyar, whatever la. MWhahahah. I'm too lazy to think already. EPL's starting, or started. I'm not really sure. Not much EPL action in Australia. The only way to really catch all the matches is by subscribing to Foxtel Cable TV which sucks balls by the way. On the bright side though, Ruby World Cup (27 Days to go) will be shown on Ten. Yay! At least I still get to see some ball action, other than their stupid AFL.

These few awkward lines.

I'm leading the prosaic life right now.


I'm absolutely dead; Blinded by life's suffocation of light, Deaf from life's rethorical rhymes and Starved from life's decapitated hope. I'm wondering like a blind deaf and dumb victim tossed in the lost and found section of the worlds' own reject bin (most victims are never found).

I cannot find happiness in anything anymore. Everything touched, tasted, heard and felt is souless to me. Everyone who speaks, who shouts, cries in pain or laughs hysterically, they are but a shadow of sanity and logic. There is no sorrow to be bled, no tear to cry nor life enough to breadthe a sigh. Unable to function. Unable to maintain my sainty. Depression is me. I am depression.

"He committed suicide about two years later, from exsanguination."