Mal du vivre + Chocolate soy pudding
Eleonora is playing some pieces of glass in the other room. How annoying. My syntaxis is poor just like my actual, social productivity. I don’t like when people consider themselves as free-to-express-myself-in-a-noisy-way beings without realizing how useless it is at least a little bit, if not fully. I’m not the pain in the ass I seem to be, I swear, it’s just that my daily intake of iron is definitely low. I’m working on it.
“Weeeeep weeeeeep weeeeeep” rhythmically screamed the pieces of glass.







