I just had the urge to write about something. I don’t really know what it’s going to be about, but we’ll just see where this will take me. a speaker at a recent seminar I attended once told us, “if you are happy then you don’t need to be a writer” and then there’s “tira-tira” poetry. I don’t want to go on the exhaustive details about those words but I just want to mention it so there it is.

I don’t know if I should be calling myself a writer. I’ve self-deprecated myself long enough to think that I am utterly and unbearably nothing. Not in the sense of depressive and desolate nothingness of myself, but just plain old nothing without the psychoanalyzing it.

I’d love to write something reasonable or at least meaningful but that’s the thing. They don’t just come out when you need them most. Like most people do. Yep.

I’m probably frustrated by my dust allergy. After a relaxing bath I have come to realize an impeccable similarity between my dust allergy and stupidity. They are everywhere.

I mean it’s not that I can do the world a favor and rid the world of you. *laughs*

Or I’m probably irked at this certain couple who’s like I’m “friends” with. I don’t know why, but they annoy the shit out of me. I have a thing against couples that I don’t like but they’re kind of I don’t know not just my cup of tea coffee vodka and tequila.

Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s still has not replied to me.


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