"Of Course the Story Could be Wrong..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

There's nothing interesting to say. I'm tired of writing about all the things that are wrong; they're always the same things. There's nothing new to say.

Aside from being ill, I'm sick.

And I have memories I want to tell somebody, but I don't know who to tell. I talk too much already. I just don't know.

Is my solution for everything when I get here: I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.