(no subject)
God I was going to write so much. When it comes to crunch time all words fail me and suddenly all the perfect sentences that were meant to flow out decide they like my brain too much with its cosy warmth and central heating.
This was once the window into my life, whatever the hell that means. It feels strange now. Once it was a warm room with a roaring fire and a good port waiting for you in a generous glass by a deep leather armchair. You were greeting with the smiles of your friends and chatted happily or became entangled in fascinating debates on topics of the day.
It's lonely now. The fire has been reduced to embers and everyone has left one by one. Till there are only the few left sitting in the armchairs, and the spirited air has become morose. The butler has stopped filling the glasses and such time has passed that you can begin reminisce about the way it used to be.
This was once the window into my life, whatever the hell that means. It feels strange now. Once it was a warm room with a roaring fire and a good port waiting for you in a generous glass by a deep leather armchair. You were greeting with the smiles of your friends and chatted happily or became entangled in fascinating debates on topics of the day.
It's lonely now. The fire has been reduced to embers and everyone has left one by one. Till there are only the few left sitting in the armchairs, and the spirited air has become morose. The butler has stopped filling the glasses and such time has passed that you can begin reminisce about the way it used to be.