It's painful to do stuff that you know will have a 90% chance of causing you pain, 9% chance of doing nothing and a 1% chance of giving you happiness. And it's more of a 9.999% of nothing and a 0.001% of being happy.
I seriously have no idea how long I'll wait this time. Maybe a week. Maybe a month. Maybe a year.
Maybe it burnt halfway. Maybe it wasn't read. Maybe it was ignored. Maybe it took infinity to reply. Maybe the reply burnt halfway. Maybe the box is still closed, and the contents of the box torn to unreadable shreds by Schrodinger's pet.
Someone wanted me to talk about the past year yesterday. I declined. I just want to keep silent about it, whether it turns out for the worse or for the worst. Talking about such stuff isn't relief, it's just more annoyances. I'm not here for wallowing in pain. I'm here for moving on.
Who knows how long I wait before I know the next course of action to begin the 2nd year.
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My best present this year is a song. Fancy that. Sang relatively well, too.
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The Real Folk Blues 本当の悲しみが知りたいだけ
泥の河に浸かった人生も悪くはない、 一度きりで終わるなら
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