Now I am quite understand how Holden started talking and stopped talking in second. How he felt he was going so well and he suddenly felt, not well anymore. Sometimes, just out of nowhere I wish I could go back where everything was forgiven. I need to get it back together, the pieces, the urges, the spirit.
It was last Thursday. I locked myself inside my room, shut down the lamp, listened to Yann Tiersen's sad piano to get all the sorrow for my graphic design project -I wanted to make a melancholy digital collage. But that didn't work. I spent like 45 minutes crying and 15 minutes thinking, and I couldn't do it. So I left my computer and went to bed. The deadline however was the following day and I didn't participate, at all.
I don't know why, but it seems like things that I like are being hostile to me.
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