No one reads my blog...

I'm not complaining. I don't care anyway. My blog was a place for me to vent my anger, and in a way, reflect on how far I've changed. Not to earn the wrath of other people.

I mean, I once wrote a letter to Roman Abramovich asking him to sponsor my studies in the UK so that I could attend matches in Stamford Bridge and stalk Frank Lampard. The chances of him reading this is VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY slim.

Then I wrote a letter to Tottenham Hotspurs, asking them to beat ManUre. If they read it, I'm sure they would have beaten ManUre.

I wrote once, asking my readers to donate generously to the "HELP SEND ROWENA TO STAMFORD BRIDGE" fund. The ONLY people who have donated are the people who NEVER knew the existence of my blog [my parents].

I write things just for laughs. I may write emotionally especially when it's that time of the month. I write things to tell people how I feel so that they know how to talk to me the next day. I try to be as honest as I can. Sans hurting anyone along the way.

I write stuff about my ex, to show my anger and disgust towards him, hoping he'd read it, so that he'll leave me alone.

I talk bad about Steven Gerrard because I know he probably wouldn't google his name and see his name in my blog.

Sometimes I wonder if I let my emotions control me. Sometimes I wonder whether people I know are actually reading this, and NOT tell me.

Sometimes my parents are right. Whenever I try to be honest, they always tell me to shut up.

Maybe I should SHUT UP.

Maybe the American lady I saw in KLCC was right after all. "I never knew so many people lived in Malaysia". If I did, I wouldn't even annoy anyone.

*If you don't see me blogging for a while, it means I'm still depressed or not in the mood to rant or things that mean the same as that*