During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act

I have decided.. in order to feel better and NOT to think about all the time I'm just going to decide for myself how it's going to be. And even though I wish for something else I can't wait for something I'm not sure I'll ever get.. So I'm taking the hard road of..letting go. feels right in a way.. heartbreaking, but still in a strange way the only way.

Reading Orwells MASTERPIECE 1984 again and it is..(if possible) even more brilliant the second time.

going to bed, going to read some poetry from Lord Byron. yes I know I am probably the only one who does that in my age, and yes I know people thinks that is really dorky.
But I think that if you don't like, or understand or want to read the magic Byron, Yeats, More, Kipling, Blake and all my other favorites write.. well then.. well then I'm confused.
Sometimes I can feel so alone in what I like.