When I look back on my life, it’s not that I don’t want to see things exactly as they happened, it’s just that I prefer to remember them in an artistic way. And truthfully, the lie of it all is much more honest because I invented it. Clinical psychology tells us arguably that trauma is the ultimate killer. Memories are not recycled like atoms and particles in quantum psychics, they can be lost forever. It’s sort of like my past is an unfinished painting and as the artist of that painting, I must fill in all the ugly holes and make it beautiful again. It’s not that I’ve been dishonest, it’s just that I loathe reality...
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Every day, different weather ... Today the whole day at home...
Today I made a bow tie. Check out:
In the garage I found the "bone".... here is
I keep my fingers crossed for friends! important exams!
Cheer up! (:
People will always talk, so let's give them something to talk about"
Popcorn and TV with the family :)
Talk to you soon!
I thought it was beautiful everyone wants to look back at there life and know it meant something.
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