Playing with lightning.
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This year is no same-old same-old. This year is different. Everything is different.
The work i face is different. The things i learn are different. The problems i face are different. The people i meet are different. The friend-relationships are different. The food i eat is different. The freedom i own is different. The air i breathe is also somewhat, different. The crucial decisions are different. The decisions i make are different. The enemies are different. The good deeds i do are different. The way i give in is different. The way i screw people is different. The responsibilities are different. The results are different. The way my mind works is different. The tempers are different. The conclusions are different. I am, different.
I just hope this is a good kind of different. Not the ones that make ear-piercing sounds like when nails scratch chalkboards. But the kind where swallows hum on spring mornings across lavender fields.
A good kind of different.
Tell me you love them? :')
Please don't make this turn against me instead.
Yours truly.