Arranged Love. Sounds like another oxymoron to me. It is.
Too many morons with an irritating fake laughter which is forced out from their throat. Sounds like those morons are raping laughter. Yeahahaha you are so fuckin funny. I won’t laugh. Hate me.
Sarcasm is a great creation. What would have the first man/woman have felt when he/she uttered a sentence that was like a punch, but still not a punch? Pleasure! Pleasure pleasure pleasure!
Did you ever feel like you are sitting in a place and you feel you are existing in the wrong place? And that place is a “world” at that moment. Like, you belong to a different world? Like existence is waste in this particular “world”?
Why did I every say arranged love? I love telling people what to do and I don’t like people bugging me asking me what to do. So yes, that is my assigned job. Contradiction. Probably, I am beginning to love what I hate. Probably I sat in that red cubicle for long enough that I’m beginning to think I’m extraordinarily ordinary.
I miss cursing. Mellowing down is like eating up my creamy crunchy layer. Whaat the phuck!
Too much of Blue and White in my wardrobe.
Today evening, I will use my Davidoff. Finally. FINALLY! The day is here.
Here. Now. Present, right here, right now is such a nice time.
Now this world, is where I belong. 🙂