Nothing lasts forever.

I'm sorry I can't be perfect.
No it's just too late, and we can't go back.
I'm sorry I can't be perfect.
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It's amazing how much junk I have on the top of my closet, underneath my clothes and in the shelving inside my closet. There are photos of Janice from where we use to post snail-mail after grade 7. There is also an unfinished letter annoucing my immature, amatuer, pathetic love to Chris; I wonder why I didn't send it (23/Sept/07). Poems I wrote in 2006 remind me of my old conscious. I found the red little bear from when i was nine and visited my dad in Perth. I found my favourite butterfly from Maccas when I was God-knows how old. I found my old magic kit with my self-colouriing book and magic stick. I also found a Kinder Surprise magic trick - a disappearing star! There's a thing that's meant to go on the back of a car seat that held all my colours for when I drew on the backseat...

Good times.