In my service as a medic; a syringe has NEVER exploded into my face. But today; it happened while I was trying to administer antibiotics. The freaking syringe blew in my face while I was administering to that old bastard.

I feel so damn depressed now. How the hell did the syringe broke? Was the cloudy mixture still solid? Or was the state of plasma still not achieved?


My apologies to “you”. I could never be the perfect one. My temper has always been my biggest downfall. How quick I was to be angry is as if one would light a matchstick. Instant.

When I saw your comment “I just don’t know what to say. If your attitude is like this; I don’t think your ready to meet my mum”

True. I’m not ready. And I will never be. Why? Cause I don’t know why I am. Who I have become. Since I could remember; I developed this irrational hatred into my life. From my old man, to my family and to how I was ostracized for 6 years of my life.

But it was anger that kept me going. Like a poison that stays in your blood stream. Consuming you little by little. Exploiting your thoughts and feelings.

All I wanna say is that; when I needed someone; there was none. I sat on my stretcher each night. Hoping for a reply. But all I got were crickets and wild dogs that replied to me.

I remember when I saw you replies; I was happy but angry at the same time. The intent of not answering was so great that I would keep scrolling on my phone in hopes you would say another line. Instead you gave a short line that you were busy.

It hurt me. Why? No matter how busy I was and how I am; I always take the time to reply. A decent answer before I carry on my work.

Apology? I accepted it. But I will never forget.  


I shouted at my mum today in her face. I admit it isnt one of the greatest things to do. Foolish some might say. But I had some point to prove. Sitting here on my bed with the laptop typing it out; I realized how much of a monster I have kept myself from becoming one. 

I can feel myself rage. In a split instant; I could feel a big “fire” coursing through my veins. Even “she” said she fears me. As if I had become a totally different person. Guess I have.

Reasons why I shouted at my mum:
1) We had a stupid stupid argument(with regards to me and “her”

2) She always thought me never to hit someone on the head. Its the greatest disrespect. Its as if you defecated on someone’s grave.

3) But she had to hit me on the head. The biggest setback coming from my own mother.

I have grown up in a family that stands to be different. We do not share the same opinions or ideas; thus having many disagreements. But we teachings of how to respect others and to be respected stands.

Today was a classic example of irony. I was angry, frustrated, and she had to hit me. If it was a total stranger; I would have killed the bastard. But this was my mother. I shouted straight at her face. Scaring the shit out of her. Shocked by my expression; I could remember how her pupils widen. As if she was frightened.

I walked away knowing I had done enough to her. I slammed my door and started my routine of hammer the walls of my room with my bare fists.

Why? Why? Why? With each hit; I could feel my knuckles becoming numb. I was still boiling inside.