My Fucking life.
What is the fuckin' fault of me is, being some kind of fuckin' neuro-transmitter. Verbally, transmitted some kind of words to somebody, stimulated him or her to a highly pressurized condition.
I should keep my fuckin' mouth shut. What the hell. I always make myself in a mess, simply due to my fuckin' shit month.
I just wanna say, I am highly pressurized, however, I can't say.
I am just a fuckin' lazy university shit student. I just sitting there, playing and wasting the resource. I have no reason to say, I have a certain kind of fuckin' stress.
Bullet passing over my head is a relief. However, "relief" is a kind of feeling. Deadman have no feeling. So, the above sentence contain certain kind of fallacy, the logical error.
Now, my life become highly mobilized. No fixed home, or, I have two "homes", one in Yuen Long, other in Mong Kok. Just like some kind of dirty nomads. Can't bathing everyday.
Everytime, Tiney said the jobs seems forever, I felt very hard. I mean, I felt myself extremely bad.
Life seems to be forver as well. Living is bless, or a kind of curse?
18:06 - Monday, Mar. 03, 2003