Sex, dream and jeans #9.

I started writing, back.

Like after how many months of should I say 'vacation', I finally made my way to write only my second entry for the year of thirteen. The last entry was in March. To be exact earlier of March. And for that particular space of time, there are fucking lots of thing happened. And about to happen. 

I miss writing and the blogspot. Not the new one, for fuck sake. This whole new template is killing me. I got myself lost here trying to justifying all the text more than to locate my parking in a seven storey basement parking. But that was the case of rarity, because what usual for me nowadays is that every time I got my feet off my car, I'll make sure that the lot no are already in my mind or my phone's photo gallery.

I told a friend about this once and his answer is no-less than a defining truth. 

"You're getting old." He answered.

"We. We're getting old." I corrected him.