Q of C
Once more. I'm here, once more. This time, with different amour. The U260 is honestly what I look for in a portable; Slim, light, sleek. Just amazing.
Correcting myself if I'm wrong, but the last week felt like new things were all on the way. This sense of excitement seemed quite difficult to cope with. It's been a long time since I've been this excited. A long, long time. It's overdue, I'd say. Yet, it still lingers.
Signs, oh signs. Stop it I don't wanna look too much into this, but it's really, and literally like a breath of fresh air. Never knew oxygen smelt this good. Of course, a mixture of it. Nicotine helps.
So words have been filling me lately, as always. And this recollection of past tunes I used to listen to very frequently has found a new place of appreciation in me. The lyrics, oh people of Lincoln Park, you guys are simply amazing. Now all the words make sense. Now I feel it. Now, I understand 'em.
I have a lot on my hands lately. Late nights, long days. It's been something good, the staleness of life has lost it's stench, now I feel more invigorated. I mean, it still stinks, but not half as bad as it used to. Come to think of it, there is a little more to smile about these days. Cool, I'd say. Coool.
Whether it makes sense, or it doesn't, relies completely on how you look at things. Unless you have Harvey's penny, there's always 2 sides to a coin. However, this point of judgement can really be detrimental to one's ability to find out the truth. The openness of the mind simply does not want to rule out every possibility. Fuck it I say. Sometimes things are the way they are, nothing more. It's like staring at the mirror wondering if it really is you you're looking at.
It really is you, believe that. It's what you've become, the result of your surroundings. But it's not what you are. What you are is simply a ever-changing organism that mutilates constantly when need be. What you are, is not real. What you are, you do not need. What you are, is not what you mean to be.
Oh Damien, you, too, are brilliant.
Stop asking. These Questions of Cancer are just silence in answers. The silence, that befalls onto unkind souls, ones that bleed while they weep.
It's still possible, these thoughts are figments of the devil in you. The devil, in us all. Still, it's possible.
I say that to myself daily.
Correcting myself if I'm wrong, but the last week felt like new things were all on the way. This sense of excitement seemed quite difficult to cope with. It's been a long time since I've been this excited. A long, long time. It's overdue, I'd say. Yet, it still lingers.
Signs, oh signs. Stop it I don't wanna look too much into this, but it's really, and literally like a breath of fresh air. Never knew oxygen smelt this good. Of course, a mixture of it. Nicotine helps.
So words have been filling me lately, as always. And this recollection of past tunes I used to listen to very frequently has found a new place of appreciation in me. The lyrics, oh people of Lincoln Park, you guys are simply amazing. Now all the words make sense. Now I feel it. Now, I understand 'em.
I have a lot on my hands lately. Late nights, long days. It's been something good, the staleness of life has lost it's stench, now I feel more invigorated. I mean, it still stinks, but not half as bad as it used to. Come to think of it, there is a little more to smile about these days. Cool, I'd say. Coool.
Whether it makes sense, or it doesn't, relies completely on how you look at things. Unless you have Harvey's penny, there's always 2 sides to a coin. However, this point of judgement can really be detrimental to one's ability to find out the truth. The openness of the mind simply does not want to rule out every possibility. Fuck it I say. Sometimes things are the way they are, nothing more. It's like staring at the mirror wondering if it really is you you're looking at.
It really is you, believe that. It's what you've become, the result of your surroundings. But it's not what you are. What you are is simply a ever-changing organism that mutilates constantly when need be. What you are, is not real. What you are, you do not need. What you are, is not what you mean to be.
Oh Damien, you, too, are brilliant.
Stop asking. These Questions of Cancer are just silence in answers. The silence, that befalls onto unkind souls, ones that bleed while they weep.
It's still possible, these thoughts are figments of the devil in you. The devil, in us all. Still, it's possible.
I say that to myself daily.
posted by Ravinder Singh at
22:27
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