Para los que gusten de leer los desvaríos de un hijo de la noche

Sunday, March 25, 2007


Bonsoir, mes ches lecteurs! (I do believe no one reads this stuff, but hell, it doesn't hurt to be polite, does it?). The future begins to darken up a bit, enough to quell my worries. But, alas, the worries are back. A passing idea on a new place to call home drove me to fret once more. Income insufficient, future uncertain. And I bloody hate this feeling, specially when I find myself still living at someone else's while my 22nd birthday draws closer yet. And to be honest, I'm afraid, yet I have no choice but to push harder up the hill and hope I don't trip in the way. See, what I fear is not that work exceeds me, but that it doesn't. I have now come to understand how my father feels.
Very well then, let's continue the struggle. In the meantime, I will leave you with this particular quote (Bonus points to the one who tells me where I took it from and who the quotee is).

"Time is the fire in which we burn"

And now I retreat to the comfort of my subconscious.