It's September, and I'm thinking about Toilets. (from last year)

If toilets have emotions, how would they feel? Are they going to feel upset and blubber to their toilet friends, just the same as some poignant Librans? Are they going to feel happy for the reason that they feel functional for people, or perhaps, because they are pleased with the scene? Now that's rude for a toilet. If they had to opt who can use them, am I going to be incorporated in the list? Are they gloomy, because they don't know what it feels like to be human? If they can subsist just like humans, just like a rich, otherwise a poor citizen, are they going to do the same thing to human? We seem to get a lot of reimbursement and comfort from a toilet, while they get nothing from us. Nothing but crap and stinky runny substance.



Public toilets are better-off than the ones in our houses. It is because they know a lot about each thing, as if they belong and can walk in harmony with us, like if they can talk, they can have the smartest judgment and advice than the whiz kid. Politics, gossips, sins, heartbreaks, showbiz issues, drug deals, and all the possible wonderful and otherwise nasty things people can carry out in the toilet. Maybe they don't comprehend, but they are one experienced scene that observes more than what a human eye can watch and attest.



Private toilets are more fortunate than the latter. Owners keep them spotlessly clean and friendly. They even have these fancy chandeliers hanging and tubs to be filled with milk or chamomile bath, velvet draperies, and scented candles. Usually, they are not called toilets and to some, it's rude to say those. They are even painted nicely and have fine-looking lightings. But some can be ignorant once they belong to a hushed owner or those workaholics who spend much time outdoors. Some even witness those horrifyingly suicides of their allies and invariably absorb the guilt because they had done nothing. Most of the time, they don't have company reading magazines or newspapers, and infrequently smell that savoring reek for them. They live quietly, seems perfect, if not, just alright; but unexciting.


At times, the most deserted ones serves as room for astray ghosts. I strongly think about it. Their walls can be blackboards or even classrooms for the lost kids who are looking for the impression of love. Spray paint on different colors were written or drawn on its walls. Sometimes it is art, sometimes it's not.


It's a toilet, no emotions, just built from cements with floor and wall coverings. Just that, nothing else. No soul, no heart, no mind, neither thoughts nor sensation. But, one day, they will make history. And each of their essence will bea transit for every user.


Now, I bet three-fourths of anyone trying to glance is asking why would I write about toilets. I don't know too. I think it has something to do with impulse, like if you wanted to write about poo, or anything else that you think nonsensical but you take a rain check 'cause some might censure it, oh! You still drop that and you proceed on these stuffs you find interesting while others don't. These stuff are clogging my mind instead of something else, like notebooks? PDF files that I can hardly open…technical committee I'm in…20 pages readings…back to back…with a font size of 8 Arial to be specific!! Man! My eyes are bleeding now and it's 31 more days before I'll be out of stress again! And it's 23:17 here now and I got only 6 more hours to get a bunk. I'd hate it very much if tomorrow España will be part of the Pacific Ocean for the............ I can no longer count how many times. Goodnight!