Dec 18, 2006

I just finished reading some of the blogs i managed to tag with mine because they were uber nice. And i cant quite try to fill my page with words because i know i wouldn't be able to write half as good as what they have. I write simply because. On the other hand, they write because. These people have got something to say, a lot to say and they can say it outright outloud without having all those ideas jampacked into their brightly lit minds not knowing where to start. No.

I feel a bit quesy about not having something to say. Or write, that is. I wasn't such a blabbermouth. I felt like keeping to myself almost all the time when i was a kid, i had my books, my papers, my pencil (we weren't allowed to use pens before sa school so i wasn't allowed to use pens at home either) and i was so happy that after reading a book in one sitting i would start jotting down these little things in my head that just kept on dripping from me like water from a tipped glass. But now i feel like the glass has been done with such refinished touches that it's not only shock-proof but also..gtg...