Pretty ironic in contrast to the being-contentism downstairs.
BUT just could not help but shit it off, making complaints,
seeking some relief.
So that's why I'm still here, 21:55. ( I wonder why, too)
Tired of overtime, sick of overload.
So I am worn out, I'm bored.
For the first time I miss my nasty room.
Nothing more to say, while fragiled, only yearning for
a voice I miss much.
Thus I made a phone call, feeling contented.
Anything finally you'll get over, I guess.
No matter how much you loathe it.
- Apr 24 Tue 2007 01:50