I don't know what's wrong with me.
I don't feel like blogging now.
I do not, want to go out. I'm too ugly to be seen by the world.
Blahblahblah, I'm fat, yadayadaya.
Okay whatever.
Today, I'll just stay at home, with my companion, the laptop with a ton of muffins,
watching Breakfast at Tifanny's, rewinding the part where they go:
"You know what's wrong with you, Miss whoever-you-are? You're chicken. You've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, 'Okay. Life's a fact. People do fall in love. People do belong to each other.' Because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well Baby, you're already in that cage -- you built it yourself. And it's not bounded on the west by Tulip, Texas or on the east by Somaliland. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."

See I like, totally memorised it.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll post about what else happened today.
And BAND[AGE].
maybe.