It's a cloudy day. Dayana's sad song list is playing. Milk tea is about to be made. Perfect day to be a-formulating.
My apologies, my thoughts will be used for the story I am tempting to finish weaving. UGH.
My life is like this fucking short story. I can view the scenes and know the exact feel and what takes place in each scene, but there's no order to it.
Where's the effing pattern?!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment