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你好善良

我希望我可也一樣找到我的最美麗的時光。

無法形容 | comments(1) | trackbacks(0) | 莎莎

太好

其實我自己有很多事情,
所以我才沒有約那個時間。

但我就想一想,
萬了你也有事情雖然還比我的事情重要,
那我可以把我的時間借給你,
不管對我有多害莎,
我還是永遠會幫助你,
因為你是我的朋友。

Fait Attention...fait attention...

有的時候,
我想太多的時候,
我會覺得我好殘。
我就告訴自己,
是好意的,
不用擔心,
你真的是想太多。

但是最後,
我還是被妳提醒。
我真的好殘。

有的時候,
我的最會說話的嘴巴,
就沒有辦法出聲音。

到現在,
我還是以為我有辦法把事情解決掉,
但我現在發現我沒有機會了。
已經太多了。

我真的想,
我都在你旁邊,
聽你的好事,
聽你的壞事,
聽你的殘事,
聽你的福事。
我想告訴你我的好壞殘福,
但我就是不夠勇敢。

我是地球上最不好的人。

無法形容 | comments(0) | trackbacks(0) | 莎莎

POST-THANKSGIVING

Before I was just like, 幹幹幹幹幹幹幹幹幹幹幹!

But,

幹....


THANK YOU!


I LOVE YOU,


I


REALLY



LOVE YOU!!!






whooohooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

無法形容 | comments(0) | trackbacks(0) | 莎莎

Free Momento

There are over a hundred human created recordings pointing to very specific ideas, thoughts and feelings that I can confess to having, at some point, any point, any time, any place, any moment, an association with, in my lifetime up til now. Recordings to define particular feelings. Recordings to describe particular environments. Recordings to represent the embodiment of existence in any space, place, with any countenance, with any enclosure, with any infinitesimal measure of lack of restriction. There is no way to document these recordings which describe these anythings within such a minute and abysmal space, especially not in this state. However, abbreviated records of these do exist, albeit in several distinct formats, such as in writing, audio and visual recordings, pictorial documentation and most importantly, memories.

Memories are the single most important possession a human being can have. It defines the past, records the present and predicts and facilitates the future. Without them, nothing can exist as such in such a timely fashion and on such a timed basis. Perhaps this statement is somewhat of a fallacy. There is some fraction of truth, but also some fraction of pretense which exists in memories. At some point, there is an obstruction to the ability to accurately recall the recorded memories (of past). They begin to fade, losing bits and pieces of themselves, falling into dementia and the ends of them end up like wispy trails of smoke. From the beginning of their birth, to some distance defined by an immeasurable quantity δ, that quantity varying depending on the nature of the one being remembered, memories are linear, but upon the passing of that quantified distance, they fade and collide with others, as if their appendages, were they to have them, failed and were unable to support their linear motion through time-space, so they began to wind every other way. Their space does not exist anywhere, but it exists. It's not a place, it's an idea. It's a thought. It's a space which is invisible, out of sight, but plentiful. It is forever expanding, like those moments when you wake up and in all your many degrees of vision, only one, monochromatic space exists. Everything is colliding, fusing, merging into a giant mass. The problem that exists with this mass, is that it's actually, literally, mass-less. Its mass is unquantifiable, immeasurable and undoubtedly, invisible. It exists in what some people have labeled as a dark cloud, looming over their heads, or a very bulky and heavy weight on their shoulders, or as shoes made of the most infallible, unforgiving and weighty metal. One way or another, it has proven its existence, which has a force, that of which is unseen, but felt.

This is the portion of the hill, however large or wide or steep it may be, that you are struggling to climb, to reach the apex, to be able to lift its invisible self off of oneself, wherever it may exist. The method of climbing is different for each individual. It's stylized, customized, designed and executed in millions of ways, in different combinations and through a multitude of platforms. Sometimes, it's not even executed; wherein non-execution is the path of least resistance. It's the most simple and least intricate, requiring little to no thought, work or ounce of energy. It is the venture across a flat plateau. There are no changes in the conscious self, unconscious mind, automatic systems or manual performance.

There is no goal, there is no end, there is no point trying to be made. There were no misconceptions to be had, nor were there any insights to be discovered and applied. The desire of keeping memories and the hostility of those who force it upon others to remember what has been forgotten is the truth of what widens the distance between each other. The subsequent fantasies which arise unbeknownst to the dreamer are those which we wish to keep, in hopes they will be part of a predicted and planned future. The truth in dreams which have already occurred are those we wish to retain. I wish I could keep my memories for myself, in my endless space in which they reside, but the problem I have, is that my space is infinitely large, and unfortunately, they get lost at some point, and because the space is undefined, monochromatic and non-existant, their likelihood of returning is miniscule, almost insignificant to calculations and analyses.

Maintenant......Il est temps d'oublier.

無法形容 | comments(0) | trackbacks(0) | 莎莎

超臭 囧

私たちの部屋はいつもくさい

所以我不想開門了。

無法形容 | comments(0) | trackbacks(0) | 莎莎

拜托。

遊園地

READ MORE ≫

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