Current articles from the ladies' diary

Stability in all its glory
I want some more beautiful stability in my life. I consistently go to school every weekday, but that's not it. I don't like it that way. I want to consistently sit on my green chair for an hour every Monday and do nothing. On Tuesday, I consistently don't want to leave the house. And every Wednesday, I want to bake pastries steadily, then eat while admiring the sunset. Like that fall. On Thursday evenings, I would like to consistently light all the candles in the house and read. I want reading on Thursday to become a habit. Friday is the most delicious dinner of the week. Saturday will be the day of a bus ride to a friend. On Sunday, I will consistently think about the past. It all sounds tempting, cozy, and safe, but... I'm the kind of person who even has unstable days of the week.

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And we could sit for hours and just talk about something interesting, but not as interesting as my thoughts about you. You said something about technology, knowing full well that I don't know a damn thing about it. Although you always listened to my music with fascination, at times it seemed to me that you had forgotten how to speak or sewed your mouth shut, but no. This is how a person who is interested looks so simple. Perhaps I spoke about her with such fire, because this is my meaning of life. Don't think you're uninteresting. I was just focusing on technology, especially your eyes. I'm not ashamed to admit that they're the only ones I remember right now. Sometimes you said interesting things. I've quoted you sometimes.

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I read a lot. And I noticed that the authors have two types of handwriting: a tight knot or a rope that fringes. So, I used to write in very tight knots, but the guy I'm reading has a ragged rope full of pellets, just like I have now. But the knot or its absence is not about the fact that someone writes more interesting, more beautiful -it's about mannerisms, fluency of speech, and the flow of thought. A tight knot or rope with fringe. Maybe there's more, I'll look for it.

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At sunset, I huddled into a ball, pulling my knees up to my chest. I had a sweet candy in my right hand and a glass of bitter tea in my left. I've weighed everything up. And how nice it is to look at the balcony in warm colors. And how nice it is to realize that I am not just dreaming, but moving towards my goal every day. It's nice to listen to Jimi Hendrix and Lou Reed, knowing that I'm not worse. How pleasant the sunset is to the music.

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Forgetting yourself at a party is such a bad option. But he's so active. People make funny jokes, and when I laugh, I feel like vomiting. Because everything didn't go right. Everyone wants you and you want everyone. But I'm trudging home alone, because I've replaced the whole world.
Further more. I don't understand where the buzz is and where the auto-suggestion is. It's the same with everything. Am I living or what? Or it's also temporary, artificial, and then a hard waste in hell. I don't even believe in heaven, we've all screwed up.
I'm flying. Not that it's anything. It just happened that way. Although I've tried so much to fly. I wanted to live to the fullest. I wanted to live. I promised myself not to say no, to understand people and myself. I vowed to give myself to this world to the last. So he washed yours off. Give yourself up to this world with crumbs and you won't be around anymore. And not being is fine.

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I feel like I'm living with strangers and their lives. It's difficult for me to develop a thought today. It's a tangle of wire, honestly. But I love messing up so much. That's why I'm writing now.
What won't they forgive me for up there? It's probably my despondency. Tongue-tied. Indifference. I was lying. It burns. Theft.
If all the people I've written about had read, maybe life would have gone differently. But they don't read. Everything suits us.
Del Rey sang "I have nothing if I can't have you." Who do I have? I I I and a hundred of the same
Bukowski, when he had nothing to write about, shot a faceted glass off the editor's head. And I have to kill to write
Don't throw away the cigarette butts, the clover won't grow, and the donkeys won't have anything to eat. And who should I fall in love with.
Smoke in my mouth, please...Because I'm not moving again. Apathy
I want to say, "Come on, it's just me and you," and drive away from here. I have no one to tell, only me at hand without you. And if there is someone to tell, you start asking questions. There's no time for questions, boys. You and I have only the answers. And if there are no answers, there are no us.
If they had told me that I would become the person I am, I would have fucked up. I look at myself and think, "fuck you." I can't imagine how you imagine yourself at all. I can see it... Let's not talk about sad things.
I'm so happy to wake up from a good night's sleep, go to the pizzeria across the street, throw up and go back to sleep. Such happiness.
I know you're a bitch without me. You are where the rain and the cigarette are entwined in a song.
And I'm writing this following the example of my friend. This is a page-sized document. It looks more like the notes of a mentally ill person. I'm not sick, I deny everything. And that's the only way I can write. I hope it will pass. Yes, Camon. Everything passes and this bottom will not remain on the sidelines. The 1xBet welcome offer ranks highly among all sports welcome bonuses currently available on the market. Enter the promo code 1xbet while registering to receive a 100% welcome bonus up to 130$. Eligibility for the bonus demands being 18 or older at the time of your 1xBet registration. Ensure your accumulator bet includes at least three events with a total odds of 1.40 or more. Use the 1xBet welcome bonus code to successfully claim your bonus.