i found a note this morning while cleaning out the nuclear waste disposal site that is my room. It's written on a small square of paper, scribbled in pencil. In my barely legible scrawl:
The man is not for you
Not for you
Not for you
It's not gonna happen-ever!
I write funny things when i dont pay attention. It's telling- why do i not deserve this man? I have no idea who i was writing about now, but at the time i must've felt some form of anguish over the said gentleman. What's telling is that feeling that i do not deserve any good that might come my way; that I do not think that the decent fellow could be for me. It's that sense in the back of my mind that my life now, as good as it may be, is down to luck and fate and i really shouldn't hope for more. Checks and balances- if something else is to get better, something must suffer.
Moral of the story: gotta take a shower, i've got class in an hour. Dont sleep, drink coffee instead.
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