West of Memphis

I should stop focusing on things I can’t change. I should stop focusing on things I can’t change. I should stop focusing on things I can’t change…

Due to a bus diversion, I had to walk from Moorgate all the way to London Bridge and wait almost 35 minutes for my bus.

It’s 04:09 a.m. I feel nothing – too many cigarettes today and meaningless observations, but trying my best to love life and keep going.

All good things come when it’s over. It’s not long till autumn now.

I’m close to getting kicked out from my place before the move-out date.

Have I grown that wild? How did this wildness bring so much detachment, though? I must admit it tastes sweet and tender, and I like how it feels on my skin. Scared to feel what? Loved. I’d better keep it a secret and pretend that I don’t know yet.

After watching the West of Memphis documentary, I wonder whether you can trace all truths. Maybe. In this case, we’re not really talking about truth but secrets. After viewing it, one of my first thoughts was that no secret will ever remain a secret, which is why I hate secrets. (I’m not talking about the law and justice.)

I’m unable to see things clearly when they’re too close. You know, when all you need is already right there in front of you, but you’re too stupid to realise it? So my optician said I was long-sighted, leading me to purchase a pair of glasses. I’m not sure I notice any difference.

The glasses aren’t pretty either. And I don’t know in what way they’re supposed to make things look clearer. That little detail is still missing – the infinite dot.

This pair of glasses – fail.

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