I bet anyone reading this should know my birth date
right?
…
Fine, it was my birthday yesterday. It was an ordinary
day. Had a luxury breakfast with mom. She bought me a biography of Salinger,
which cost her nearly $400. Spent the afternoon doing nothing. Read a few pages
of the biography, a few page of Samuel Johnson’s The History of Rasselas,
Prince of Abissinia, which I don’t really enjoy it at all. And watched Grade A
Under A. Nearly watched all of his videos, except for those ‘why I hate someone
videos’ because I don’t know those people he was mentioning. Hang out with two
friends at night. That’s all I did.
I hate my frigidity. But still can’t control the indifference,
though. Nah, not feeling like having sex. If I do it, curiosity accounts to it.
Not only about sex whatsoever. Every intention of mine is just responsibilities.
If you want to know the truth, except my parents and
some friends, there are only two people I really care on earth. For the former
ones, I’m ready to devote for them anytime, but they don’t cause me emotions;
for the later ones, they simply don’t give a fuck. This is the only thing I
could think of that will disappoint me from heart.
Btw, I want to write; but I found that I couldn’t
write of any. They are only unwanted fragments. I can only catch a breath by
thinking of it.
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