Thursday, July 12, 2007

Sometimes. All i seek is someone who would read my works, discuss with me theories of Lacan, Freud and philosophise about existentialism. Sometimes. I wish people would understand me, read me and perhaps hold me in my emptiness, and fill me with words, fill me with happiness. Will someone love my mind as i love my own? Who can ever read me and know me as i try to know myself?