…

Someone who bothers the least, an alight employment… prospects of self development, that may lead to a greater satisfaction and another, more prosperous change. Maybe two weeks somewhere abroad.

I still fear…I’m not as confident as I wish I was, yet oooh so tempting is to progress a little.

Live and Love? No thanks, but thanks, really.

…

Someday will get somewhere eventually.

Don’t know whether it’s all standing still or moving forward, I forgot what it’s like to put myself in motion.

An amount of things done doesn’t equal any progress, yet the passing of time shows one positive outcome; The knowledge of self.

No sense made.

…

Sometimes lack of certain vocabulary stops you from making a verbal utterance;
sometimes it is the insecurity. Stress comes in.
Not as eloquent, or full of some personal complex, yet with a thought-creating silent place,
and the need to speak the mind;
the way the thoughts form themselves unable to be properly vocalized. Shit. Everything is…


At that age, closer to thirty you could form yourself from anything from an
innovative thinker to a complete failure. Though those who fail to be creative
usually fit well inside the mechanism of socialization, they adapt quicker and become
street wise (rather than witty). You’re in the middle of a mad genius and a sad idiot,
and there is always this crave to be someone else.


Someone young said she doesn’t believe in people who are 28.
A sudden rare feeling, due to the identification of self that could be an adult,
had emerged from deep within and slowly dispersed into nothing.


…

…

Seeing so many deleting their accounts makes me wonder, whether it is like having your hair cut, like catharsis, or more close to some sadder loss. Then I wonder if  you give a fuck. I catch myself thinking of useless things and slowly withdraw back to the world of music, see Morrissey sings a nice joke about a girl in a coma and I’m wasting my life typing this. :D

…

You are my perfect stranger.