Losing count

Losing count of how many times I hear my friends telling me studying part time/full time is so stressful and I was left wondering should I feel happy or sad for myself.

Losing count of how many times I find myself wondering how my life could be less monotonous and how much more I wanted outta life.

Losing count of how many times I tell myself that Impossible is Nothing and drawing insipirations from real life cases,friends,stories and life itself.

Losing count of how many times I blogged literally in my mind on my way to work/home and always forgot what it was all about when I wanted to pen them down.

Losing count of how many times I already find the food I ate tasteless but again counting my blessings that I still have food to eat and munch them down.

Losing count of how many times I feel so old inside and act so young outside,just what am I all about.

Losing count of how many times I just feel so trapped,lonely and yet think that I am so lucky that I have the basic blessings at them,how one always contradicts another.

Losing count of how many times I lashed out my unhappiness for people of my age who enjoyed so much and complained so much,just like fuck it all.

Losing count of how many times I 'fucked' in blog and how many times I actually used it real life. (I do use it.)

Losing count of how many times I waked up wishing that I am sick so that I can take MC.

Losing count of how many times I wish,I wish,I wish.

Losing count of how many times I actually only 'waked' up when I am inside the train,inhaling the stale air with the uncountable ind-uhviduals from Dilbert.

Losing count of how many times I stared at the calender,the clock, the wardrobe and it never change,somehow.

Losing count of how many times I witnessed the dip of my balances like bad shares bought on bad times.

Losing count of how many times I feel guilty for not being able to help all the poors begging out there.

Losing count of how many times I think I could be a great Romeo if I'm a guy instead, or maybe Hitch.

Losing count of how many times I imagined myself snickering a *'s life and wishing it a downfall like the a big splash all the time.

Losing count of how many times I really wanna a damn good massage on my shoulders and back.

Losing count of how many times I and I and I and I and I and I and still me.

What the...
-_-?