(no subject)
Time really is like sand. You always think you have too bloody much of the stuff (especially in your undies), and that it will never run out, until you try and grab onto a bunch of it with your hands and it all slips straight through your fingers.
I'm not feeling very good.
Maybe one day I'll get back to posting proppah entries on this blog, like. Maybe so. Maybe I'll just start posting snippets of crap poetry. Maybe not.
But right now, I'm not feeling good. So that sorta interesting stuff will just have to wait.
Do I sound like an ungrateful, whingey, whiney brat? Probably. But thems the breaks, kiddies.
I'm sad. And nostalgia seems to be eating me from the inside.