I'm sorry because I can't draw and you can't be as cool as my imaginary journal.
I'm sorry because I don't write regularly, and I use that excuse, that I can't write just in the right mood when I feel the time passing in the mistery of the eternal.
I'm sorry because even if I have such a bad memory, I like to forget.
I'm sorry but I let you know that I burned my previous diary even if it wasn't a concrete diary just a black book with poems, a touchable memory palette.
I'm sorry because I live in my own world and in the "real" one nothing really happens, nothing I can write about.
I'm still trying to find out who I am, trying to break out my inhibitions, to play out my demons..
JUST to WRITE THEM OUT
— The End —