The only feeling, if there is any, it is that, I am very, very upset.
The reason is unknown and uncertain, in fact, the reason is imagination. I imagine all those shit up and believe in it. What am I doing, I need a blanksheet, and I wish a new start. Only in this small place, no one recognize me, I can be myself, an anonymous ghost, pouring out my cheap emotions and redundant sentiment and useless tears, and lick my wound audaciously like a crying wolf. my little blog love is so unconditional that whenever I had a problem, there is always a blank page for me, to get off all those stupid and unreasonable and boring sentiment my chest, which is something I dare not, in millions years, to say it even to my parents and any friends. I took refugee from the world of books when I was small, I sneaked into the library, cause, no one recognized me, I was absorbed into the world of ernest hemingway, and Louis Cha, I could be whoever I want, I could go to Spain and meet Maria, and be a hermit in a mountain like some martial master in China. As I grows up, no more time for daydreaming, the reality is tough, I have to mask myself in a strong, firm and confident face at all times. I am so unwilling to unmask myself, cause I fear despise so much. I fear contempt from the other so much. I care my ego so much. I am such a loser.
Only here, I am allowed to be tedious, and long-winded and talk about how fucked-up I am, how I horrible I feel. I could not sleep a wink last night, cause the italian swept into my mind with Douglas Murray. Very creepy. Then she told me she had a boy friend today. haha. I dont know what I am doing. by the same token, the ghost of emily filmer, oh yes, I fear not to utter her name no more, come back again, she is not even real. We talked, I wishfully thought, (think) that we are possible, but of course, she replied me once in september, that's it. I did try to find her, and I had that stupid, impractical dream rooted in my mind that may be if I go to Aberdeen or Paris, just as what I joked long time ago, we may bump into each other again. She never replied me, she even disappeared on facebook. Probably she has deactivated her facebook, and she may well have deleted me on friend list. After all, I am just being wishful, she probably forget me anyway, I dont even know if she is still in Scotland. I have not heard of her, since Nepal.
I stop pouring my tears and sadness and pressure to my parents. I dont trust Alvin no more. I do not trust anyone in reality. I cant trust anyone, and I always afriad that they would despise my cowardice of showing my emotion nakedly. I got no one to talk to. But thanks god, I have a little corner here, and I am kind of able write.
I feel dizzy with a big headache. I am upset. I've used I more than 1000 times in this diary. I cant care less. I am fucked up, but of course, it is necessary to sum up here, that, I fell down, and now I came up and I am not beaten, I insist. and I try not to trust. I am suspcious, of relationships between people. Are they honest. I want to be as political as I can, the more I am, the safer and more indifferent I feel.
The reason is unknown and uncertain, in fact, the reason is imagination. I imagine all those shit up and believe in it. What am I doing, I need a blanksheet, and I wish a new start. Only in this small place, no one recognize me, I can be myself, an anonymous ghost, pouring out my cheap emotions and redundant sentiment and useless tears, and lick my wound audaciously like a crying wolf. my little blog love is so unconditional that whenever I had a problem, there is always a blank page for me, to get off all those stupid and unreasonable and boring sentiment my chest, which is something I dare not, in millions years, to say it even to my parents and any friends. I took refugee from the world of books when I was small, I sneaked into the library, cause, no one recognized me, I was absorbed into the world of ernest hemingway, and Louis Cha, I could be whoever I want, I could go to Spain and meet Maria, and be a hermit in a mountain like some martial master in China. As I grows up, no more time for daydreaming, the reality is tough, I have to mask myself in a strong, firm and confident face at all times. I am so unwilling to unmask myself, cause I fear despise so much. I fear contempt from the other so much. I care my ego so much. I am such a loser.
Only here, I am allowed to be tedious, and long-winded and talk about how fucked-up I am, how I horrible I feel. I could not sleep a wink last night, cause the italian swept into my mind with Douglas Murray. Very creepy. Then she told me she had a boy friend today. haha. I dont know what I am doing. by the same token, the ghost of emily filmer, oh yes, I fear not to utter her name no more, come back again, she is not even real. We talked, I wishfully thought, (think) that we are possible, but of course, she replied me once in september, that's it. I did try to find her, and I had that stupid, impractical dream rooted in my mind that may be if I go to Aberdeen or Paris, just as what I joked long time ago, we may bump into each other again. She never replied me, she even disappeared on facebook. Probably she has deactivated her facebook, and she may well have deleted me on friend list. After all, I am just being wishful, she probably forget me anyway, I dont even know if she is still in Scotland. I have not heard of her, since Nepal.
I stop pouring my tears and sadness and pressure to my parents. I dont trust Alvin no more. I do not trust anyone in reality. I cant trust anyone, and I always afriad that they would despise my cowardice of showing my emotion nakedly. I got no one to talk to. But thanks god, I have a little corner here, and I am kind of able write.
I feel dizzy with a big headache. I am upset. I've used I more than 1000 times in this diary. I cant care less. I am fucked up, but of course, it is necessary to sum up here, that, I fell down, and now I came up and I am not beaten, I insist. and I try not to trust. I am suspcious, of relationships between people. Are they honest. I want to be as political as I can, the more I am, the safer and more indifferent I feel.
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