Confession of a Poklandir

I have a confession,

I think I’m stereotype-ly confused! (take note that the word is “stereotype-ly” not “sexually”). I have a heart of a poklen. In fact I think I was born Poklen. DAMN IT. THERE I SAID IT!

I want to be a poklen!

Bruneian always said bad things about being a poklen. It’s not that bad actually. I think all they need is fashion makeover and SERIOUSLY need to improve their spelling skills, so that it would be easier for us to communicate. HAHA.

And so, I divided Poklen people into two categories;

Pokleneers
Issit a wonder what Pokleneers mean? Well, according to my English teacher Mr Albert Polita. Poklen women are called, Pokleneers. Don’t mind him. He’s just being eccentric. No offence Mr Albert. HAHA. ;p

But I’m gonna use that word anyway. Except I want to change it’s meaning to “High-Class Poklens”. Oppsss, I sound like rich people back in the “world depression years”. Sighhh.

Poklandir
DEFINITELY THE LOW CLASS POKLEN! I wish I could talk more about them, except it would be an insult. But who cares anyway, poklandir are the saddest-lamest creatures to walk on this earth.

Totally unfashionable. Whatever they scribble it’s unreadable even when they type using the most sophisticated input device technology ever built.

God. They are just soooooo depressing.

Anyhow, I just want to talk about me. I’m changing my life by entering a new world, which is a Poklen’s world. It’s going to be tough. But I’ve always wanted to be a poklen.

All these years my life is wasted. I could’ve been a pokleneers by now. But peer pressure is changing everything. Now, my fashions I say, just normal. But my heart will always beat as a poklen.