Laissant le monde à ses problèmes..:).

2 empty bottles of water on the floor. Funny picture of lazyness. Wondering about happyness and the desire of forgetting about it all. Music sounds alive in my head, but so far. like in an old recoder which i cannot stop. Head is heavy and I try to remember the last line I said . Nonsense.
I am so heavy, that i almost know how it feels like to lye like a corpse in a sandy land. My body won't move unless you push it down. Ceiling looks peaceful, all is peaceful. Nothing moves, nothing breathes. 8 seconds and i crumble.
Coffee. and i realize all this mess i'm in. Like.. Please don't fuck with people's feelings.
All i can think about in mornings like this - some poem of T S Elliot(the lovesong of j. alfred prufrock) and bloody murders.

I've been drawing something. i guess it's fine.

'

'There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;'