I had plans. They kept failing. Nevermind. Now, I can tell everyone that failed plans do not stop a life, that life goes on anyways in one way or another. It might not be the way you wanted but it is still going on in a way. That’s nothing to feel sad about it. There’s still time, and things waiting to be done. It’s some hour of night and I am half naked in my red room, staring at the fan blades, watching them cutting air again and again. Not a word or a scream. All dead things are lying around so quietly. I can barely take it.
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