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Miss Funky Princess: diary
personals [ Journal ]

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by [dayana ]

2007-12-10  |     | 



So all good times end somehow. It feels like drinking a good, expensive wine while cheering a short memory of your beloved friend. It feels like caving in, presuming you can’t be there, but facing your dreadful, shady limbo. Little by little, waiting for daylight to loom, you are given to feel the cold shiver of death. Hurry for the past! Look who’s alone now! It’s not me! Surrounded by all your good friends, smiley faces cracking at your party, send a greeting to your grandma, because she’s ill, did you know that? A beautiful, old castle, your place now, can I take a seat? A famous painting at the entrance, it seems we know each other for long. Same taste for art, same way of speaking, although I’m not your friend. I like enjoying life, going out, drinking fine wine, making friends, taking them home. And then, the next day, waking up at noon, and not remembering a thing. What a good life I live! Every time I confess to my shadow-friend some every day facts, IT seems not to listen. What am I going to do with it? That’s my fool’s paradise, maybe I feel comfortable in here. My mind is blurred.
Since I’ve met you, I got so stubborn.
I always go to sleep and share my candies with you. You don't even like sweets. Why are you always complaining about my red dress? I keep on wearing it because of you. You love to see me dressed like that. But you forget too fast.
Maybe I don’t mind thinking of you, or maybe is useless. Because you’re a little bit different. You love the same things I love. Or maybe not. I don’t even know you.
I don’t remember ever looking into your eyes. I only claim the same truth as you do. I'm a funky princess and I often go to Hague. That place keeps your taste... Remember, hun?

Ever since I've first read your letters, I knew you felt lonely. As for my friends, don't let this trouble you, life's short, faces get old sooner than you can tell. We always high on...



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