Is there anyone out there who feels so lazy in this December afternoon? Yay.. count me in. I'm here slouching in my bed, hiding ins...
But somewhere the book fails to keep me hooked. I put it aside and look around my room dreamily. My mom's voice "Your room looks like a dump yard. When are you gonna clean it?" echoes in my head. I hate to say this, but yes, my room does look like a dump yard, though.
I sit there giggling and grinning looking at my diary filled with some poor English and funny incidents. Some pages made me feel bad for myself, some pages made me laugh, and some pages made me feel embarrassed. As I turn the last page and close the diary shut, I get this strange feeling as if I had watched some movie starring me as the lead actor and all others as supporting actors.
This incident reminds me about a quote
True that. There are some incidents that I didn't remember until I read them now. Though `I feel proud for the "little me" for this cutesy habit of writing a diary, I deeply regret to have stopped writing. Whoever said that writing diary and journal is a waste of time, I pity you. Nothing equals the feeling of reading your memories written by your own messy handwriting.
Don't trust your memory; Jot it all down
Leaving my memories behind, I join Bruno Mars in "Today I don't feel like doing anything; I just wanna lay in my bed!" and start singing. Then I crawl back in my bed and doze off to my dreamland.