truth is, i can not be fucked to describe every little detail to you
because, actually, you won't get it. no. not one of you.
i am not attempting to insult you, or hurt you. no, not in any way.
i'm no different than the rest of you. i'm not a special case.
i'm just my own person.
and every
little
thing
that i do
affects my life.
just like you affect yours.
whether it may be choosing fruit instead of cereal this morning for breakfast
or taking the plunge, and trying something new
when you know you really shouldn't have,
each
and
every
little
thing
is
just
one
piece
of
the
puzzle.
and here i am, wasting my time typing about it,
when i could be preparing myself.
for what? i'm not quite sure yet.
that was corny. hellyeah.
l'anonyme is mine
and i'm his.
based on a true story
but the funny thing is,
all you ego-freaks out there?
yeah, you'll think this is about you.
it may very well be (:
who knows, one day i may very well tell you.
that was one fucking awesome week.
i can't be bothered to edit this article.
" ohh, i wish i could, but i don't want to. "
" there's just this for consolation:
an hour here or there when our lives seem,
against all odds and expectations,
to burst open
and give us
everything
we've ever imagined...
still,
we cherish the city,
the morning;
we hope,
more than anything,
for
more. "
that is all.
