False Promises.

Dear Diary,
Thursday 26th of February 2009, 10.50pm-ish (sneaking on at work)

If you can't deliver a promise, don't make a false promise. It feels so disappointing and then you say, I forgot. How could you make up for all the anticipation built up for days, my trust and all the time I put myself into believing in you, it's hell. Don't let me down, I plead.

Promises I make to myself, it's all real, but it turns into a false promise whenever I forget all about it or procrastinate about it. Either way all I have is myself to blame, there are no excuses. How can I aim to be the best if I can't even learn to love and take care of myself. I'm about to hit 20, it's the beginning to adulthood and my profession will depend on how I've performed in the past.

I may be down with the 'blues' right now, but I can't waste my time any longer, I've been clowning around for too long. Wasted time will never come back, and 60 years is all that I have. I want my determination back, there's a fire in my heart that's about to explode and run through my veins like drug.

P.S Happy birthday Ken


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