All things must come to an end, and so does vacation. It feels terrible. Why work when you can be free? Why have a co-passenger when you can fly your plane solo?
Sometimes I wonder if formula 1 is really my sport?
Sometimes I wonder if im a little vague?
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
That’s my immediate reaction on going to work tomorrow. Thats my, what’s it called… Yes, thats my inner self speaking.
At least, this sunday have the decency to be a rainy sunday. Thats something.
Things are soooooo messed up.
The simplest things are difficult.
Where is the world going to? All I know is that it isn’t going the same way I am.
av Max @ 14:30:13 i Old diary | länk | Prat (0)