Well! It has been a long time since I have last written anything; and when I thought of reviving my rusty mere talent, it has came to be synchronous with dreadful thoughts of despair and emptiness.
Desperate times call for desperate measures—everytime I say that to myself, things tend to take an acute turn towards a horrid dead end. I am entirely capable of vowing to become a better person repetitively yet this self inflicted damage I bring on myself seems to be of an inevitable doom to all of my motivations. Possessing the ability of turning in; promising yourself that next day you will –by means of forces that are super to nature- alter most of the things you wish to wave your wand at and make something beautiful out of it; yet not really thinking of a logical pattern to set and follow, it just puzzles me the next day but help me sleep at night.
Tomorrow a new day will come. Tomorrow I will be good.
Good Night.
PS Waiting for a Divine Intervention.
