perhaps i'm just in a shitty mood. perhaps i'm just lamenting that one day's ending cannot match that of the day before. perhaps i'm just living out my envy second by second, minute by minute. once upon a time, i read my sister's journal which really couldn't call itself a journal at all since it hid itself amongst her school notes since she thought that anything so ostensibly marked as a journal would surely get read by my parents: in these scribblings, she wrote that she found herself so attracted... read more
