date: Saturday, November 14, 2009
title: a dear friend, it.
Lingering in the depths of its own room, while facing a screen filled with colours with tabs attached that have different alphabets all over them. It sighed. It wanted to speak out, but afraid of losing another close tie, it won't. It tried by asking, but efforts seems rather useless. It seems to be losing everything, and everything literally.
It said; "Contended with what you have, not regretting what you've lost." It is bullshit.
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