A catalogue of a neurotic masochistic middle-aged woman's sorrow, stupidity and self-indulgence. Why I do this to myself is the perennial question. Yes I must be a masochist.
Wednesday, 18 May 2016
Can't sleep
I can't sleep again. Maybe because I was thinking of the first time we met. I still remember seeing you get out of that taxi... all i could see was your hair.. which was what you always intended with that big hair... to hide your face...
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