The story is about a town, a murder, of a boy who… NO! this is not the story that will set you in a dramatic zone. Drafting this is such a difficult thing for me. My fortune to everything was creeping me out… Earlier I woke up, usual morning, I drafted a note and finished it by noon, ready to share and voila! It was corrupted. As much as I want to retell what my previous text was, I get frustrated. So let me tell you things that include my freaking corrupted file.

It was last night when I got an idea of writing some random diaries because from the last couple of night my mind is working like bomb. I’m sure this is not the symptom of my energized insomnia but instead a slap telling me that “Hey your vacation is not interesting like last year.”

Hello, I’m Kenn (yes, this is how I presented myself earlier). Living in a provincial neighborhood, where plants grow free from pollution, animals could live without being hit by a truck and killed by hungry souls. I do entertain my total weirdness inside me; from food, style and habit, I adore them as my cat adored fish bones from our left over last night.

I got a lot of unpopular opinion that if everyone will discover, I will be killed –exaggeration alert. One of this is the idea that coffee is plain, boring and gross. Hot brews – tea, milk and hot chocolate – aren’t the best for me. They don’t match my tongue palette and for the record, I want to vomit every time I plan to drink it straight. Growing up in a culture where the dinging of the porcelain cup and metal spoon are part and parcel of our morning voices. I consume coffee every time there’s this tough substance called bread that need to be soggy and easy to eat. But other than that, the moment that I’m running out of bread I stop finishing my coffee.

“Strangers for me aren’t friendly. Talking and entertaining them are dangerous and risky.” My idea that applies to EVERYTHING, for people, places, ideas, and even foods. Unfamiliar taste makes me anxious and unsettled. For those who love exotic food, for me they are weird without judgement. Maybe this is the so called Trust Issue, but I know foods don’t want me to be hurt, It’s just me throwing shades to these inanimate object, MY BAD.

Sadly, for others, it is easy to throw shades, to lost others (not food) in total darkness. In this neighborhood, where if your different, to be understood is longer. It’s better to imprisoned and close yourself in a limited space than to deal with humans with similar animalistic deeds. Distance yourself with lies and developing piece for truth are the hardest things to attain. But that’s the music of this realm, the wind is not going to change to the direction that you want unless you create storms and tornadoes. Still, the choice is yours, you follow the wind or create disaster.

I, myself, believe that I’m far from perfection, I do judge people base from their font choices to worst. But good thing, I am aware of what I am doing. Making the clouds gloomy isn’t destiny but my intention. I set boundaries and standard when to stop and continue. My total darkness is just a reflection of what I see. Nothing will start if something won’t end.

People aren’t rented the neighborhood, they are part of it. The boom of differences might not be accepted by some, but it doesn’t intend everyone to join the bend beliefs.

You should water yourself to grow with your own color and style. You might be plain or boring in some ways, but always remember that you are not useless. You might be powerful cerebrally or maybe physically from the others, but you should know that everyone is equal. Everyone could fall in different categories but you should know that you are special… You could move others; you could be someone’s forte or kryptonite maybe.

7:00 PM


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