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Nobody knows.

I need to write, though I should be studying.

of time I have plenty of them, is not a problem, so I do not think my penis end soon (uuuuh, exaggerated!).

These days, nights that seem as the sky is dark (I like it like me), I'm keeping the heart and brain in perpetual activity. And 'bad. It's all bad, but you can-not-I do not want to run away, the problem is that I am aware that if you run there would be nobody there to say "no give, remains. Maybe even five minutes, but it remains."

A couple of friends, perhaps, would say, but if I run away could not even notice it. I am good at certain - these - things. I am also good with

bear the weight of my problems without a murmur, like the mules (good comparison, eh), I'm good to bear. I'm good to resist, to be quiet, not to mention untold secrets, but I am not good at living. Why?

Or maybe life is just that?

admire from afar the happiness of others. Maybe yes, maybe it's better, who knows, maybe I deserve it.

Why should I? Well, I have no idea, but there must be a moive, no? They say that "nothing happens by chance", is it true?

Nobody knows.

Nobody knows.

None.

Nobody wants me to stay.

But nobody asks me to go away.

Nobody believes me indispensable.

But nobody believes me expendable.

Nobody hates me. None

m'abbia believe I ever loved, desired, yes, for sure. But then, what is love? Here we could discuss for hours, days, months, years. I will not, rest assured, I would not have anything to say, anyway.

Love, to me, is like an exam for which you have not studied. I'm not prepared (I think), and in any case would end badly (think you), then, even I come to give examination, even to "see how" (of course, if someone would offer me a ride, maybe).

E 'that is always about love. There is a reason, right?

And me? Who gives me a lift to go to this exam? So far I have only given an exemption, perhaps I can also pass the exam.

Ah no, true, I'm a horrible person surrounded by zombies as horrible.

are not superior to anyone, I will. And you are not superior to me, let this be known.

It 's always - and I say, always - the wrong approach to others thinking of being the best, nobody can think .

So I'm not better than you, indeed.

And, quite frankly, probably never will be.

...

Here, I knew, I was wrapped. How it works? How do I go on? What do I write? I mean, I'm thinking about too many things, many of them personally (granted, get your dicks here that you do not gossip!) and many others, however, also difficult to decipher and throw down in words. Many things that I think, maybe, I do not know if really I think. Or rather, I do not know if I agree.

epnsare you ever thought about one thing, but to disagree with that idea? Why not? From yes, you type a thought, however, will not you think, or thought you did not like. Or maybe yet, think of something, but you can not tell if that thought is yours, whether induced or not as I know, confusing, ambiguous or false.

No, why? To me it often happens, 's going on.

I'm crazy or am I a genius?

A psychologist (note: figure useless, vile, slimy-and short-parasite of modern society) with my blog would go to a wedding.

Fuck you asshole.

What a bore, I need to write, but not in the mood to live.