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fuck me, you. i finished reading winnie the pooh. i had tears in my eyes during the last chapster. it was heart breaking - yet i wish i could have really cried about it. i would have liked myself better that way. and i started reading about mon petit prince. and i'm falling in love with each page. you know what makes me happy? contradictions in myself. because i love writing shallow entries like this one, followed by stories of crying about 'childrens' books. i love the maybe false feeling of "you won't be able to pin me down". the feeling of multiple layers. i hope i am really special and it's not an illusion. and even if everyone else was as special as me, i really don't give a fuck. it probably would be a better world to live in. fuck me, you presumptuous prick! (me) ........................ i really feel now as if all is full of love. i like friends. |