Thought I found what I wanted to do in life until some fat hag stabbed me from behind and robbed me of a career that took seven years of my life. Thought I rose and recovered from that glitch and moved on with my life.

I was mistaken.

Seven months of lull, ten months of experimenting, three months of dreaming and I'm back to where I started. Or have I even started? When you're hitting 30 and don't know where to go or what to do, you become desperate.

I'm no desperate. Just aimless...clueless.

1 comment:

Lilith said...

The future looks promising, Kenjuts. It's gonna be great for us. :) Start wearing those high heels!