talking to some old friends who aren't just about photography and more work does lift the weight off my shoulder, a little bit. in fact, it was refreshing, it was liberating. just like the good old days where my friends were fun to be around with. the good ones either left the country or became a fucking grandmother. growing up too soon and too much, apparently. for the most of it, i was stuck with meanless callow conversation that had too much rubbish in it, or it was just empty, feels more like the music a person will listen to while driving home after a long overnight party.
the usually unseen few made the rare appearance for the lunar new year. the long caveats didn't matter, it was warm and familiar. then we blaze into a verbal tango, everything from raunchy details of our insignificant lives to indecorous theories to the secret of our being and our very limit is the time we could spare for each other.
ironic enough, to have few to spat such nuisance with, is in reality proved astonishingly more difficult than algebra equations. at times, i felt like precious time was robbed of me, trying to make new acquaintances with anyone. pretending to care or compromising yet another surprise in the forthcoming person that i will meet sounds like a drag of nails through a rough blackboard. that damn path looks dim to me still...
for what's it's worth, dismal time i spent meeting my good friends were something words can't depict. it was better than good, more than anything i could have asked for. i love every single one of their surfacing.
11:36 PM
that fucking traitor
liEw, 18 and since 2002, 270lbs, 5ft, brazilian chinese russian icelander hybrid, black eyes, short black hair, racist, antisocial, semi-alcoholic, ignorant, exhales profanity, black-poetry fanatic
