Rage against the hormone.

Let’s hit the ball and forget them all. PLEASE.

They say during this season, snug rampages easily make the vital center and source of one’s being vulnerable. Perchance that is true, can anyone’s will reverse the phenomenon? Who created the time machine? Please take me to him. I’d tell him to end May as soon and as fast as eating a jelly-ace pocket. Mae and I are planning to play tennis – but why go on with the time machine? That’d make me forget how boring it is to be skeptically waiting for something no one’s ever heard of in this lifetime’s cosmos. Being a cynic right now isn’t going to help either. Anxiety and ooh avarice are both hitting me on the head. Go go go. Now now now. Run run run. I can’t. Another Stacie Orrico song might do the trick. Her song Stuck is appropriate somehow.

Tomorrow’s probably my first and last summer trip to Repro. They’re finalizing the layout to make the blueprint of our Profile. I’m coming alone tomorrow. How long might the day take? After work, I might meet up with Ardo. Hey I’m sorry if I acted like Marcos + Hitler + Snappy = Mocoso (a querulous, self-proclaimed brat) last night (plus the other night and the other…).

To make life a little bit straight, I’ve set out these peculiar commandments:

1. Pray every night. It will serve as your lullaby too.

2. Be happy at every time possible.

3. Thou shall not be demanding nor be celosa.

4. Never act like a Mocoso or like a nagging self-righteous hag.

5. Play and play or sleep and sleep.

6. Trust. – Thanks Juno. Haha

7. Love the whole universe.

8. Let go.

9. Smile.

10. All of these for world peace.

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