Time is running out for me. I'm soon going to be 30, and I still have a million things to do. Next month, I start learning French — I'm doing it; I don't care if I beg, borrow, or steal. I wish I could do a Phd. too; I'm planning on one but I'm not quite sure on this. I'm full of enthusiasm today. I feel this would last me a life time (like always; but I'm always wrong).
There is money, there is love, there is marriage… why do we make our lives so complicated? Animals are a happy lot. I have enough worries to keep me off love, yet it doesn’t leave me in peace.
I wish I could be Sisyphus; just understand my lot in my own weird ways and get on with what I have.
I don’t know what I'm doing. Let me begin with the French (hopefully).
I need a story.
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