ella fuera si y

Irsquo;ve been discovering it difficult to write lately. I know it may come of petty for some but Irsquo;m actually considering it as a big issue for myself. Writing has always been my stress reliever, my happy place in the midst of hostilitymdash;it gratifies me because it presents me life in a different angle where I can see the world more vividly and intricately, going beyond the physical and sometimes, even more. Writing is a giant grilled chicken sandwich with lots of pickles and chips on the sidemdash;my favorite, but I guess thatrsquo;s not a secret anymore. I donrsquo;t know why but nothing has been coming to me. I pondered on it and it resulted me a conclusion that I either lack inspiration or I may just posses too much of it that Irsquo;m having a hard time knowing what to put down first. Then again, with the many circumstances life has been perpetually pelting me, I think Irsquo;m standing on the border of both with eyes wide open.

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Things will work its way on mehellip; so Irsquo;m told. Emotional catastrophe on a bright, Sunday morning, wow.

ella fuera si y, ella garden place, ella gasoline gusta la le, ella gemilang.