Eight hours and it's almost done. Happiness.
7+2 months and counting.
I'm of two minds. One which, sliding down the great toboggan hill of life, wants to dig its heels in like there's no maƱana. The other which wants to pick up its feet and glide.
The good old BS problem.
Ever have a really close friend you just start to lose touch with, for whatever reason? Then, out of nowhere, you run into them again. A year and a half later, while you've been trying so hard to get a hold of them. And of course by then, it's too late. What might have been. I hate those words with a flaming passion. Mostly because they get me every time.
It's not going to happen again.
Nothing like a good fume to get the toxins out. I need to purge from time to time. Clear out the dust bunnies, leave everything feeling renewed. Full of promise. Now there's a dream worth dreaming.
Daydream Believer
Nothing like a good fume to get the toxins out. I need to purge from time to time. Clear out the dust bunnies, leave everything feeling renewed. Full of promise. Now there's a dream worth dreaming.
Daydream Believer
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