i dont like that i stopped writing. or reading. drawing, even. i think my reading level dropped drastically. wth? die.


so lets try this again!


i started reading. i'm currently reading [u]And Then There Were None[/u] by Agatha Christie. i will start writing here again. probably nonsense, but i dont even remember what its like to think on paper, so it will be a start. i will start drawing once i find my folder. still somewhere in a box, god knows.


for now, thats all.

nothing.

 

i was so pumped ten seconds ago to vent my little heart out, but now that the blank pages are staring back at me, i have no words to express how painfully hollow i feel at this very moment.

I'm a little teapot, short and stout,

here is my handle, here is my spout.

When I get all steamed up, hear me shout,

"Just tip me over and pour me out!"

 

 

 

what a beautiful day. and a beautiful life. just dandy. :)