There surely can be nothing quite as sad and worthless as a grown adult who, authoring their own misfortunes, is unable to take responsibility for their actions and uses all their precious time blaming others, until - becoming so bitter and twisted they are unable to recognise friend from foe, or truth from fiction - they finally succeed against all odds in fulfilling their own mean and nasty little prophesies.
Diary of an emigrant
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)