I am a man of limited abilities.

I have created things which were supposed to reflect some feeling I had, yet they turn out so miserable, compared to what I wanted them to be.

I have taken a lot of heat in my time and I did never regret it, but after the tension is gone it tends to get empty and there is nothing I can do about it.

Some people came and made me happy, some of them I managed to make happy for a while, and all of them are gone now, somehow whatever it is I did was so out of line, yet I could never know it was to go that way.

I did read many books and tried to remember the words, most of them I did, indeed, memorize, a small, but significant part is gone forever into the great white, but I have lived so many lives on the pages of these realities.

When I am walking down the street I stare at peoples’ faces as if there is something I have lost and I am supposed to find it that way. I never do.

I have many moles on my body, too many perhaps, and when I get hypochondriac I see them as a legion of tumors, waiting for their turn to get me. I can’t make them go away.

I have almost 1 TB of music and I just can’t listen to all of it at once, which, I really wish I could do, for the sound is what floats us through the stormy weather, and then again, through the much worse calm, still weather.

I take words much too seriously, which is a problem, for most people use them lightly and I am always getting into some deep misunderstanding just by taking other peoples’™ words the way I take those that swarm inside my head.

I have heard them say that when you love you get loved in return. Hardly true. It’s just a wishful thinking. But you should be careful what you wish for, it might come true. There are all kinds of love, you know. And it’s never free. It’s worth every second. Take what you can, before the man says it’s time to go.

Sometimes I feel painfully lonely, but it’s no wonder – there are so many people around, it would be awkward not to feel that way. The heart is a lonely hunter.

I was called selfish, described as disorganized and even mean and harmful person. It’s fine. I’ve been called worse by better.

I’ve got nerve. And sometimes I lose it.

I have an amazing ability – all my life I have somehow managed to be almost or completely broke. I guess money doesn’t like me. Can’t imagine why, I like them.

When something happens I always take the perspective to the limit and then I have to wait on reality to catch up, yet most of the time it never does. But I can’t go back. And sometimes I wonder if I would if I had the chance. I doubt it. I’d rather keep waiting, but it’s anytime now I just drop it and quit.

In the end all I have is words. I just let them fall.

Because I am a man of limited abilities.