when the clock will strike at one

New year, same old school feeling.

I'm back with the books, and I'm hitting them big time with all the depressing stories they tell that never fails to lead me reflecting. So what do I get to turn out in the end? Confused. With how the world manages to tell people what is right and what is not.

I'm feeding my mind with ideas but i get up rattled with how vague things are. On one moment, I can't help but utilize all thoughts and principles that go 'knock-knock' in my head. And just when i'm about to hit the pages of my notebook, i get the thought that writing actually does nothing. It makes me feel sad knowing that when someone writes a very moving, heart-warming piece, once someone finishes reading it, it just ends there. Got the point. Felt the emotion. Period. It cannot lead everyone to start something. But NOOOOOO! Can't help but think-and-write when words clam up inside.

See here, right now, I'm just typing what comes into my mind, no order, no thinking of the next topic, just typing whatever shit flashes in my mind. andd....

I'm happy that someone keeps me grounded and locked. And as what I always say in my precious diary, I'm still struck with his cheeseburgers and tight hugs. Also, I'm over the deadline of my 1am sleep. I promised. Can't do it because at night my mind is awake. THINK THINK.

What am i saying anyway? haha!

alright, i'm gonna drop it.