who moved my scalpel?

Posted on August 10, 2006


it irritates the hell out of me whenever somebody sneak in t to my Operation Room. moreover when he start striking at my instruments.
the funning thing is no matter how filled and cluttered my OR is, surprisingly my photographic memory locks the picture in my brain that whenever,even the smallest syringe is moved, i’ll know it. it just faze me. that’ll make me, if i catch him, incise his cerebral cortex so he’ll scream out of pain,bleed then die. wherever that is..
honestly i’m yellow. i dont think i’m capable of performing that.. thats holden caulfield and dr. shepherd talking.
theres this intern, my house mate,who goes to my room whenever i’m not around. uses my isp, hits on my personal thingies and perches on my operating table,my bed…that just unnerves me. i dont understand. he has his own stuff. his room is even wider cozier and his thingies are far more complete compared to mine and he still uses my stuff. so when i get home. i have nothing good to use, nothing good to do. that depresses me. its my routine to read my emails and check my avatars before i hit the sack. so when this happens its either i look for a store selling an isp during wee hours in the morning or i just lie there on my operating table and wait hard till my brains go on idle. the problem is its human nature for people to use other people’s things so their’s wont get dirty and worned out.
the good thing now is,after running scared 3 blocks under the rain chased by could-have-been-holduppers, my depression prompted me to do something weird, blog,
my first

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