Due Date As Per Conception Date

Till I Collapse.

I cling to writing as a drowning man a rope out of nowhere. I kneaded my sadness, my hate and my desire to leave to make a paste of cake abominable. There is nothing worse than being his own jailer.

This mania for being punctual, that horror behind, this feeling of guilt when I dry or when I go out earlier ... They

m'enfoncent even more is malignant.

Without this discipline that I imposed, I never set foot here. Yes, here.

Live Silver BU morning, ladies and gentlemen.

I will definitely scare my readers last, if there are still those who are wandering around, but ultimately it's my blog, and its primary function and ant to raise some of my moods, as far as I'm free.

I have two beautiful hours before floating a block of four hours. Superb. Culpa or not, I get lost before the end, sure.

I just finished a pseudo "TD Expression," I loathe the highest point. I hate wasting my time this way.
Bitterness is a good company, I know her better.

It is not raining today.

Well, I already feel like writing. The only rope that stretched me in these places is slipping slowly but surely out of my hand. I have a book in my bag but no desire to read. A little over an hour to eat before class. The idea of returning me back to wander outside the stomach.

I keep control but I do not know how long I could hold. The one I want now is to roll under the table as Cosette and crying loudly.
And then sleep to forget.

When you leave your bag lunch that your dear and loving mother you kindly prepared and that the mere sight of the paper that accompanies it makes you do a mini-crisis nostalgia Thinking of home, it gets scary.

13.00. 60 minutes before ... 4 x 60 minutes = 240 minutes.
I'll try to negotiate to 180, you should be fine.

I sink, shit. I sink.
If I listened I get out of here screaming and running like the devil if I had at my heels.

I never felt such loneliness. Never.
But I'm having a lot of experience in the field, we must believe that there really is not, and still worse.

I do not want to write.

I want out of here but I have nowhere to go, no destination, any transit point.
No scoring.
Nothing .

I'll stop here. This time putting my feelings in writing seems to exacerbate rather than relieve myself.

All who wander are lost.
All who wander are lost.
all those who wander are not lost.

not lost.
No eh? I'm not lost ... No.

I hear music from my mp3 but I do listen more than half.

It is 13h05. Ahaha.

The funny thing when you fall, the fall seems like an eternity.