Cold cut chase.

I got lost in Nouvelle Vague outer space this early afternoon and pretended that I was wearing this really big blown up hairdo and the big black shades with no UV protection. When I came back to earth, I had wanted to keep P.O.D entertained but to my terrifying horror, I have forgotten to transfer their jams, which I have illegally downloaded, into my mp3 player (a.k.a Blood Sonia). /dog face So I resorted to Fall Out Boys and I seriously think "Sugar We're Going Down" is their best so far.

When it comes to my value, I have found out that mine doesn't turn out to be a zero after all. It is fragmented this way into every single flirt I may conduct; the way I want you to feel towards me. So am I valueless? Or is it broken up into such tiny molecules that there's no visible solidified body the naked eye can see?

I should be anonymous to everyone. We started out as strangers to one another after all. I guess there's an intriguing level of sexiness with meeting strangers. We are just those species into cheap thrills and dangers. Don't you find it more of a turn on having sex with someone whom you barely know rather than your partner? For my case, I won't even want to know his name. I guess that's going to keep myself in suspense so that I'd keep chasing.

Least, fast love is better than bad love.

I guess when one party is ever willing to give all out, the other doesn't wish to, nothing is going to come out right, nothing is going to blossom.

This time around, genesis would be much thorough and it's going to be completed in due course. There shall not be any intrusion, not even if you are the subsistence in nonage.

This armour shall baffle all penetration.

This is my space and I am finally very safe.

And these are the phrases associated with today:

"Pablo Honey, Psychedelic Rock, Radiohead's Creep."