Fuck. I just don’t feel like writing anything on here. Lately it’s getting easier and easier to just write in the lovely red moleskine. (The red makes it so bold… almost too bold for my tastes.)
I can’t allow myself to think aloud (in text, or speech).
Rules. Laws I must abide by to live a structured inhuman life. Inhuman because I’m aiming at stripping away all that is real.
I bordering on that thin line of thinking aloud.