My life
I quit studies. I couldn’t work, have free time, do things at home, read the things I like and study at college, because after a year you’re not convincing to anyone. It took one more year. I was living by myself, so no real worries, as some would say.
Well, got to change it. Through torment I made a decision to move to Warsaw (the capital) and start living with a girl. Where I used to live you can have life as depicted or lower (I mean the standard that way earned money could give one). The vision was clear:
Das in ein Order ich liebe:
Du arbeite und ich shreibe.
Pardon my German, couldn’t find time to learn it as well as I wished to.
By the way, Old_Gobbo, I wish not. I love all languages, but got proficient in English only. Fuck you, however, if you pay attention to mistakes. My aim is science.
Well, more on the track. I taught English and translated to live. At this place, however, it was meant to be:
That’s how I see my life:
You bring money, I type.
Duh.
Today are three weeks since. Got some things straight. First of all, I know at last she don’t love me and why I have to move out. The option of return is not an option to me.
I’m 26, out of work. Have a car (tiny, lovely bitch, she got the spirit), and a PC.
I’m not worried. Worse things happen. I could lose a leg, for instance. Or an eye. That would be fucking bad. Cybersex is no sex. I could go insane. Then you are not real for others, not the other way round. No one would listen to me. That no one does you forget when you have a broadband. And I don’t remember any desktops at loony’s, just some useless puzzles.
So, tomorrow’s Saturday, I don’t know what new will happen when I wake up. Hope these fucking heat days are over.
I’m going to post some shit until I drop. It’s 2:37 am in Poland.
Ah, here’s one. My style is not the above. I didn’t need to vent out or something. Just wanted you to know me better. It’s late, there are else things to do, so I didn’t work on the structure. This is my favourite style:
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I’ve got more, and nothing to lose, really. Just thought someone would pay me for writing, so decided not to publish online, but gather a bit and send out here and there. Just because they can’t understand that I can write on any subject and I have nothing to say, really, out of myself without the real need. They want to see me. A’aight, next time I shit I’ll leave the door open.
The more I understand music, the more I see no one can really dance.
But life’s no tragedy: I’m turning down the winamp and pricking up my ears to it.