they call it 'irony'

so today, my mood is ruined.
the kind of story i can't go storytell around. something noone could blab easily. it's just too hard to be kept alone, yet too private to be shared.

me and my anomaly.
when i'm at the lowest point of my life, and i have to do something to share my problems otherwise it would just burst out, in the very moment where i gotta bleed it out and cry the hell out of it,

i can't.

i simply can't.
i can't even cry. i can't go whined it up.

all i can do is to make an irony out of it.
yeah, my fucking 'irony'-time.

at the sad-dest point of my life, i cope with it by doing anything that always keeps me at my happiest.
that is my fucking ironical phylosophy.

so, here is my 'irony'

it's my ultimate weapon. my Zeus of laughter-maker.
it suppose to be able to fill my irony-time just with a zap.
but not this (ultimate) problem, it refuses to be tamed.
and now. here i am.
as hilarious as this cartoon could be, i still manage to weep through it

Money can buy a house, but not a home.
Money can buy a bed, but not sleep.
Money can buy a clock, but not time.
Money can buy a book, but not knowledge.
Money can buy food, but not an appetite.
Money can buy position, but not respect.
Money can buy blood, but not life.
Money can buy medicine, but not health.
Money can buy sex, but not love.
Money can buy insurance, but not safety.

~Author Unknown