I had a dream, a dream that wouldn't end, where I died countless of times, no matter how much I spin it around I couldn't retrieved it back to how I died.
Yeah, I Black Mamba was just reciting someone word, if you're familiar to the person who've said that you'd realized what I've recite just now was rubbish.
I was now laying at my bed thinking what, why, and how I should write my very first novel even though at it's first published it'd come out as very mediocre.
If I ever become a mayor at my hometown I'd build a public library because staying at my home all throughout summer is granted with an unbearable, miserable, and
obnoxiousness thanks to whom I'm living along with.
Meet Sunny, he's my imagination friend, we are in good terms, it's given that my relationship with others is incomparable if Sunny is the center of subject, he's a distorted human, he appears white, black, and sometime or rarely he's becoming into an interchanging colors.