blogging's like slicing your brain to thin strips, salting em, and then drying em under the sun. It'll be fun watching every drop of moisture evaporating from them, each strip curling up like besuto prawn crackers when dropped in steaming hot oil. I could even hear them crackling.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
My Angel
They say everyone has his own guardian angel. The angel knows your every move, saves you from danger, and takes care of you whenever and wherever. You and your angel are made for each other. He needs you as much as you need him. There can be no other angel for you except the one you are born with. You and your angel are like twins. Your angel cries when you cry. He is happy when you are happy. Your hearts are tied together by a delicate string called love. My guardian angel left me. His end of the string broke. I have no angel. Not now. Not ever.
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