Tuesday, March 15, 2011

A Writing

It’s getting cold outside.

I sit, reading, well trying to. Listening to the people outside that I don’t really know how to describe, that I’m not sure I like or deteste.

I know I like one of….two of them. That’s slightly wrong I suppose, i like all of them, just not what they do.

I wish I was listening to NPR instead.

I feel like something is coming or like something is going to end. I have felt this way for awhile now and I don’t want it to.

This pen smells like sunscreen and there is no toilet paper.

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