We should all be happy.
Writing that was seemingly a passing trend. I'm back to my mundane neutrality because yesterday, and the day before it, seemed like the longest days ever and I can't bring myself to think I should be happy at all.
If you're within three meters and you're talking clearly, chances are I'm hearing you. My inner silence makes me do that all the time. I filter what I hear and I guess I don't remember most of them, but the words of the vile are hard to let go of.
[And I can't tolerate profanity when it's against me. That goes for everybody else, right?]
I just can't believe how some people can constantly destroy without their conscience blaring. But they are so predictable, those vultures. They're not getting anywhere with all their facetiousness and they don't even know it.
I mostly stopped caring when I heard what I heard sixty-three days ago. I still do but, somehow, I have concluded that the world isn't as amicable as I want it to be. So you tell me now. Should I be happy?
...
I hate what I just typed. It's merely just a memory of two days ago and I know I'm feeling better now because it's the first day of February but thinking about this at all is ruining my Sunday morning. Argh.
Writing that was seemingly a passing trend. I'm back to my mundane neutrality because yesterday, and the day before it, seemed like the longest days ever and I can't bring myself to think I should be happy at all.
If you're within three meters and you're talking clearly, chances are I'm hearing you. My inner silence makes me do that all the time. I filter what I hear and I guess I don't remember most of them, but the words of the vile are hard to let go of.
[And I can't tolerate profanity when it's against me. That goes for everybody else, right?]
I just can't believe how some people can constantly destroy without their conscience blaring. But they are so predictable, those vultures. They're not getting anywhere with all their facetiousness and they don't even know it.
I mostly stopped caring when I heard what I heard sixty-three days ago. I still do but, somehow, I have concluded that the world isn't as amicable as I want it to be. So you tell me now. Should I be happy?
...
I hate what I just typed. It's merely just a memory of two days ago and I know I'm feeling better now because it's the first day of February but thinking about this at all is ruining my Sunday morning. Argh.
