I know every thing about the future.
It was yesterday.
Whoever is walking around in my skin isnt me.
I was thinking of not writing here when i was in a dark mood but, hey, my blog = my crap.
I dont expect anyone to read anything they dont find remotely interesting.
So, for the third time i take the medieval carriage they call train here, into Jönköping.
Yet again to no avail.
Yet again someone, far more successful than me for some reason that must be among the greater cosmic mysteries, behaves like a retard and the whole poop land at my lap.
Perhaps i should form my own little gang of people with dwarfed lives:
And me, Left behindy.
Dreams and hopes are not only far away for me, they arent at all. I am in some phantom zone dream state outside of time and space, and life goes on without me….somewhere else.
I´m no longer sure it would make a difference if i moved.
I´m no longer me anyway.
Just someone pretending to be be me but not quite making it.