There is music when I listen to which that I want to absorb it as a sponge. Because it is so glorious at the moment that I can’t handle he fact that each song I discover overwhelms over and over again. And I can’t help but cry due to the frustration of the constant building up, or more precisely constant pre-climax feeling I get when listening to the song. And I never seem to reach the peak as there is a sure anticipation that something better, something greater is coming with the next song. It’s drastically beautiful.
Best things in life are fictional.
Sometimes I feel love. It penetrates every inch of my body and becomes me from inside. It is provoked by little things, unpredictable revelations, like enjoying replying to a person you’ve never considered your friend or a foggy morning when you can’t see anything further than you reaching hand.
eventually I stopped, because a cramp fettered bladder
Facebook is a nice place, maybe the only place I can talk to my friends being absolutely naked.
Icelandic music makes me horny.
You know what I hate most about people - it’s when they are chameleons, when I see how a person acts absolutely different in front of another person, says something absolutely different compared to what he shared with you a couple of minutes ago. Those people disgust me in a songle mone tif though those couple of minuted ago I felt we had something in common. Not anymore, not now. Sorry, not sorry.
I wish I had time. But I can’t. No one can. It’s literally unbearable.