au revoir

je me couche, et lis le livre du garcon avec aspergers.
après deux semaines elle va retourner, c'est merveilleux. (and this is true, no nonsense)

and I no longer know why I'm writing this in french cause I'm no good at it efter abdi left me, no actually I left him and that fucked up school. been reading this book about a kid with asperger's syndrome, quite interesting and I have no idea how they could suspect me having it. it was good though, to hear it. finally a reason for all this fucked up-ness. it was washed away immediately anyhow and here I am all well. now I don't even know why I'm writing this cause it's all past and no present except the book-part and that french-part. I should propably go sleeping and write some REAL thinking and some REAL words about REAL everything. but the next room is playing jazz from I don't know when or where and it is too tempting to just sit here all night typing our nonsense.