Away From The Sun

The remaining space of the place irritates me. Most of the time I gave up easily because I had nothing that strong enough to held on or maybe nothing strong enough to keep me going on. It was just a simple blog post that I should have to keep up. The eagerness was there, but my wants wasn't good enough. These fingers mainly controlled by my impulsive mind which able to lost the appetite within a blink of an eye. Labile like teenagers.

Screw. It.

I could hear the obvious difference when my door room was opened. And that's irritating.

I couldn't get myself really into writing because my shirt somehow smelled something familiar.

I couldn't express the way my mind spinning thousands of round because of... because of...

Do you know that I always trying to have excuses for bailing on this?

I didn't feel like I was good enough to write. To spell. To arrange a simple or compound sentence. Or to explain what I did. What I hate or love about today.

The tasty French Fries I had for my self.

Pizza that almost choke me.

Another farewell a friend of mine that I had to face.

Tears that shouldn't be produced.

Highly selfish annoying angkot that caused traffic.

Or a tiny words I should have not said.

I wasn't a perfectionist at all. The level of ignorance I had was way incomparable with perfectionist's. I just demand things too high for my self. And sometimes I found things were not suitable enough for me. When I thought about what's dominating my mind, I denied and chose not to write because... because I know it would turn out to be very cheesy. Simple things irritates me.