currently reading "attention.deficit.disorder.:a novel" by Brad Listi.so far, amazing..
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i can feel my empty stomach.and my dizzy head.Feist's voice never stopped entering my head too.such beautiful sound it is..and the words too.i have to say,if hearts are painted on canvas, i think i cant even make any sense out of looking at my own heart painting.my life is like..divided into fragments..half of the fragments are like dreams that i hope to continue..so wonderful and happy..another half.. i think i lost myself..floating like bubbles..----deleted--this feeling is not helping my self-esteem at all.--deleted-- and all thats left is ..me..in a bubble..and so, once again, i dont knw what to do.and i just want to say this,i am not proud to say how i am a sad, sad, sad person.some optimistic shitty big headed people would not understand how i really, really, really wish im not this sad but still cant make myself out of it.but thats okay.they dont need to understand.coz they dont make any difference.btw, i dont just wish, i work hard to be happy (my God, how silly that sounds...). i do anything i can to make myself happy.but, well..herm.explaining all these somehow makes me angry.
should stop.
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