My heart-strings are more tangled than my attempts at crocheting: but, if I was allowed to justify the ball of tied yarns with a claim of disinterest in that hobby.

To make things worse, I trod the swamp of shy vagary approaching the day dedicated to make the lonesome ever so lonesome. Aimless pursuits by one I simply cannot force myself to love deprived my place next to my best friends in celebrating our loneliness with bitter solace in friendship.

At this rate I don’t mind dealing with the aching ball of strings, now, like how I deal with tangled yarn.


For I am already wasting too much time.


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