Thoughts and More Thoughts

There's nothing to write, yet I'm still writing. My mind puts in the stuff. I'm letting my mind feel instead of letting it think.

A song.

A mirror. I see my reflection, yet I can't see a lot of things.

A roll of tissue.

My cellphone. It's quite old and it has an awfully scratched case, but it's special.

"I was inviting her into my heart..."

It's 11:50 in the evening. I should be sleeping right now but I can't.

The night is humid. I want to turn on my air conditioner but it'll ruin the environment. Will it help? I don't know. Perhaps. A little thing might be of great significance in the long run.

I'm scratching my head. No, I already scratched my head because if i were scratching my head, i'd have a hard time typing. It's incredibly itchy.

Scratch again.

My room's messy. But I love the mess. Let it sulk in for just some time.

I'm in pain, but I don't know why.