here i m at my new house, still , feel desperately like writing.
and i have a tendency to wait for phonecall and make phonecall.

i spend a lot of time alone. to think. there is a lot to think about. like, my long delayed period. it is disturbing.
like, gross people, that i don wanna tahink about.
like, beautiful people. too beautiful taht i dare not to think baout again.

i m still looking for crystal slippers.

i live a deviant life. normality bore me. the scariest thing is when deviant get boring over time, i look for more deviation. and there is no end to it. yet i hope for a peaceful happy life like this. though it is in itself deviant. i m too young for normality.
now i know what makes me a unicon. theo says, coz it is like a horse and with wings and horn, so it is like somewhere in between, it doesn belong to anywhere, any category. in other word, unicon is a deviated creature, therefore it wander off in the silver forest at night, alone.

i walk an empty street
on a boulevard of broken dream

life is weird, my life. i feel awkard in ordinary things.
there is always something mystical.
like, vanilla soymilk, like burrito with no cheese, like, a houseful of rooster. like i don think anyone here will get wat i m talking about, yet i m writing it here to remind myself wat i been thinking of.
like , the groaning sound of the engine. the chill of the foggy glass, the heater taht never get heated in 2 minutes, the never ending green days.....never ending green day, and the twilight.