The days are sad just because they are. You accept it that way, good things happen to you while you look at them outside and the bad things you keep in your stomach as if they were personal. It's amazing how depressed that person is in the mirror, but life hasn't even left him an explanation of his cause. No reason to complain. With the pleasure of complaining.
When everything is good in your life but you can't celebrate, are you happy or unhappy? Can we say that one day is bad as early as morning? I do it often, but today it was a book that made me make a mistake again. It's not a happy book, but the pleasure of not being able to look up when beautiful legs are displayed in front of you, when a guitar sings in the subway to make you the perfect ambience and when you find a seat for the hour and a half you have left on your way, that doesn't even get you the worst news in the world.
I think what I need are changes. Big and exciting changes. The frenetic action and that a sea of adrenaline makes you forget the word 'think'. For example, I'm a kicking ass. What difference does it make? Yeah, I'm totally using this as a dump.
I've had two days of things to say, the ones you can feel deep down. But it was today when I stained the notebook. As always at odds.