You know. I had this plan. That I would start fresh. I would work my ass off. I had this plan that I would redecorate my room. I already planned where to keep my guitar. I'd been awake at night, making plans. I am all about the plans. And that's what is wrong with me. I set up this high expectation, I dream before even getting it. I imagine stuffs, I see stuffs before thinking it thoroughly and practically, I let my mind wonder over it. You see, I am an enthusiast when it comes to planning. So it hurts. Just hurts when I want something so bad but don't happen to get it before my expectation dies.
“If I had a camera," I said, "I'd take a picture of you every day. That way I'd remember how you looked every single day of your life." "I look exactly the same." "No, you don't. You're changing all the time. Every day a tiny bit. If I could, I'd keep a record of it all." "If you're so smart, how did I change today?" "You got a fraction of a millimeter taller, for one thing. Your hair grew a fraction of a millimeter longer. And your breasts grew a fraction of a—" "They did not!" "Yes, they did." "Did NOT." "Did too." "What else, you big pig?" "You got a little happier and also a little sadder." "Meaning they cancel out each other, leaving me exactly the same." "Not at all. The fact that you got a little happier today doesn't change the fact that you also become a little sadder. Every day you become a little more of both, which me...
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