Of my Creative Zen and comfie pillow.

I feel like inhaling packets of nicotine, which would definitely be out of my norm. And would without doubt make me feel sick, and put me right to bed.

But that's the point. It'll make me be on the bed. Listen to the music at a very slow volume, as if it signifies sadness.

I feel like throwing pebbles at the cars, with anger rage but really, it'll not get me anywhere.

I feel like snuggling in my warm blanket when this stupid ceiling fan feels too cold even during the day and there's nothing like the warmth shared with your trusty pillow.

Don't as mke why, because I can't find the link. I mean, I'm sure it is it. And I was confident that it is what's suppose to be. But then, why this?

Mari mari baring.