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the last sunset

98. remember
Sunday, March 4, 2007

I have to stop thinking.

I end up breaking my back sleeping on a protruding rock from the open field. And suffering the chilling winds at night and/or morning. Why, I do not know. I just find bliss in exposing myself to incoherent circumstances. At least, I think so. Or that's what all these are pointing to. I'm trying soooo damn hard to cope up, but I guess I'll always end up last. Oh, the demise of being the short stuff.

smiled at the sun again @ 9:37 PM,




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