The complexities when you know too much from reading too much when you can’t help much.
I walked past today like walking down a wide alleyway flanked by blank walls with cliche and unassuming paintings of fruits of various ages and styles, but fruits nonetheless. This morning was spent with an equivalent of entertaining little kids with my cynicism. Noon marks the first signs of trouble leading to a steep decline if I didn’t attend to it. Mid afternoon— speckled with worries I’m not worrying about. And afternoon, being quite aloof.
My memory is doing its job again— erasing. I didn’t direct it.
I realize that whenever I see that person, I start to type like that.
T_T This sucks, Earth.