a sunday afternoon. sitting on your ikea chair and trying to hit the keys in a language that isn't yours. you me. you could understand that much. and the moment i started typing, the feeling of writing just flew to a further land. probably a southern land.
blogging is like smoking i suppose. you start at a younger age thinking you're doing something cool when no one actually gives a shit. and during the years, you try to quit, you get back. and finally when you're older, you keep doing it but this time knowing what you're doing. you don't do it to poke someones eye or for glory. you just keep doing it, and no one still gives a shit.
if i must keep it simple, i am nobody. just some letters on the internet. letters that hardly form a sentence and almost never a meaning. i did this thing for quite a time, in my own language and it wasn't any less shittier than this. now it feels like it's time to try something new and waste a beautiful sunday, seeing many beautiful things in my life got wasted. i have no idea if i will write something more, or if someone will actually read it. maybe i'll redo this "not a welcome" thing. maybe i'll just give up writing, like i did countless times. time will show. time... time. let's call it a draft this time.
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