I don’t know. I’m writing in here again. This is like, my hobby. Poetry and blogging are hobbies.


Maybe I just need to taste other cultures.

Maybe I’m too American.

You know?

I always hate on America.

Maybe I’m the one who is too American…

Mom’s making me a fish sandwich, because I don’t make my own food.

It’s down to actions now.

And explaining every little thing, I guess.

What’s the explanation but stalkers, though?

And mind-reading?

You know?

How do people know?

I haven’t had. Any. Water today. At all.

Mom’s going to eat leftover sushi.

I wrote some good poetry last night.

Or was it two nights ago.

I only had two beers today.

I stopped after that.

I’m not having anymore.

I hope I don’t have a stomach ache tomorrow.

I hope I can sleep tonight.

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