This time, they dumped me at my residence.
A bloody miracle.
They're kinder with their choice of dumping ground now that they've put a tanning on my life, eh?
How ironic.
After I make the best out of my remaining time, I'm going to have my throat slashed, my body sliced, my organs sold, and what's left of me blendered and juiced.
Lovely.
Just my luck.
“Hey, you.”
Huh?
“Are you the daughter of a mafia boss?”
What the hell is the landlady asking?
“I saw big men in black suits in a nice car drop you off last night. If you're so loaded, why can't you pay rent, you wench?”
If I'm going to die anyway...
“Your legs look like expired chicken nuggets.” Retreating backwards, I gave her the finger and laughed out loud.
So, now I'm homeless.
Damn it.
Humbug!
Bah!
Pew! Pew!
I had such kinds of thoughts as I looked at people's faces that I walked past by in the busy street of Wa Ning.
How many times was I bashed in the head for me to end up like this?
They say life's tragedy is a comedy from afar.
My room window has zoom lenses for glass so all I see is pain.
Must be nice to be far enough to be able to laugh about it.
What is the value of life, anyway?
Is it the amount of times we've cried? The number of times we've been happy?
The many moments we remember? The fraction of that which we try to forget?
And succeeded to?
If we try to forget because of the bad times, is there any way we can preserve the good times?
What is there to live for?
(Radio tuning) Hi, This is Sunny Radio! For today, we are going to talk about a dog from hell, as Charles Bukowski puts it [...]
(Grain noises)
(Radio tuning) We are nothing if not for our ability to love and surrender ourselves to it [...]
That's right, I'll just find someone to love.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Kafka
Romance[CPN] Riko was nearing the end of her life. What she decided to do for the remainder of it was to find someone to love. She never knew it would be so beautiful, maddening...turbulent. She got what she wanted and Lord knows it was the first time.
