feeling a bit blue. misty, damp blue that even a cup of coffee and chocolate cannot seem to penetrate. one of my fingers are bleeding too, from a cut. i'm not sure if there is a meaning to all of these misfortunes. there's probably none, which is depressing in itself. oh, well.
i don't know what i want to do.
i don't know what i want to do.
i don't know what i want to do.
i don't know what i want to do.
i don't know what i want to do.
i feel like if if i keep writing 'i don't know what i want to do'
i will someday know.
i will.
i will.
i will.
oh, who are you kidding.
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