Sí po. Ahora son las 3:09 de la madrugada, según mi shúper reloj bien configurado de Windows.
No sé por qué miechica me acabo de meter a esta cuestión del blogger a escribir a esta miserable hora en la que me encuentro situada sin yo quererlo. A la fuerza. Debido a las responsabilidades universitarias.
¿Por qué cresta me metí a escribir una entrada en un día y momento como hoy, si no lo hago tarde-mal-y nunca?. Pues bien (a lo españolado), no I know. An outburst. I miss the 45% of my life, when she had time for leisure, and thought it gave me pleasure, because the kitchen refrigerator had a magnetic ACHS sponsored by saying''leave time for leisure.'' The truth is always brought me pleasure entertainment. Pleasure to do anything. Doing nothing gives me pleasure. Staring at the ceiling, close your eyes and open them. Geez I was flying. Not now
po, now I have so much product when cold evil that not even I can not move from here. In other words, the average fortune that my chair has wheels''computeishon''because at least reached to move to look out the window a bit. I'm so cold I have with each inch of my muscles tensed, and I've rung for 5 hours with the same miserable pillizco (asdasdsad how you spell that?) toilet paper runny nose caused by a cold on that as my family is hereditary allergy. Nonsense, JUM.
already ready. Free me and verbally vomited. I have no dream. Big problem because I wanted to take the light of day. And I saw that to me sleep. Hate
irregularity. And that is what my college life is about two months ago. Crest
Why I have no time to get the magazines of the year '70 that I have stored in the closet and make a collage that I fill the soul that is now full of love but I stuck with the responsibilities type''''I have to be professional?. Uhm. I do not know, I know. I have promised many times not to write personal hyperventilating in this way gives me the same and return to promise. THE PROMISE (as if cynicism is good sometimes. Sometimes. And myself. NOT the other, "Okei?).
Geez, is the least after being as 7 hours writing by hand. Já. And I go fome. Lock silly. If I have wanted so much to paint a wall with paint pots but believe me CRAZY. And while my previous post title cost me even madder. I love to be. But I want to be more crazy. And that land to call''reality'' disturbs me and restrict me as lemon pie. Yes po, because the key lime pie is so, so, mmmm ... as it were, so harassing HOW TO STUDY WHAT I HAVE TO STUDY NOW, at 3:24 a.m.
Yes, there is little.
To look into those eyes more often and make stickers.
To dream of returning to walk the wet streets of the south. U hear the innocent laughter of my little joy that is far away.
Close your eyes and sleep. And wake up but light a candle and watch it melt the wax. Waw, tremendous pleasure. 3:26 a.m.
write slow as a snail slime. But I have scarves, and leave no traces.
OMFG, a tear in my throat.
I think I remembered that class Philosophy I heard my self-famous phrase from the mouth of a teacher who said, at night our brains produce serotonin, that makes us more creative.
Hello my name is Romina, and worked with serotonin at this time. OMFG
x 2:''You could say that serotonin is the "pleasure hormone" in addition to being the "hormone of humor.''(By Wikipedia). Should I regret what I said?. I charge you the example of the description.
Whatever it is, I have cold feet. I want candy. And I demand 345 helium balloons to myself.
