Filth. That's the right word at the right spot. All my actions, all my thoughts... Such a mess... MESS! Mess... miss... I miss you. I don't want to see your fucking cute face again with that sort of flirty blush and those horrible warm eyes of yours... but I sort of miss you. Yeah great now from mess I ve stretched my heart-strings into miss. No ms! no sir! Pfff lame...
That's paranoia I know. But so what? My brain was always like an endless maze, torturing me every single day with nonsense... SHUT UP. Ok... Silence. For a while... Everytime I try to stand up to myself I end up even more lonely. Why? And why the fuck I am writing this bullshit in English anyway!?
Nothing more to say... I love the weather. Clouds know how to show compassion... Bastard sky. Full of fake dreams and lights pretending to be stars. I ll find the meaning of today's life in an old, decayed wall garnished with some sort of wisedom never to be explicit, written by a poet never to be acknowledged. Hell... What's wrong with me?
Have a nice day...
Η φίλη σας,
Estella