to prove yourself right,
you don't have to prove that others are wrong.
interesting?
because i don't think many think that way now.

i see freedom
its proximity, its chill, yet cosy touch.
what comes after freedom?
therein lies the fear,
but not in the stacks of papers
which i am supposed to fill
to convince some old man in england
who don't even know me
that i may have the potential to further my studies.
By the fireplace, in winter,
far far away in Cambridge,
i hope old men are nice, like in fairy tales,
(ironic, when these old men are out to kill all innocence and hope
and whatever is left in kids, okay old kids like us)
and nice enough to strangers,
strange kids under the rule
of studies.
no, i think they are the big bad wolves.

shucks, ramblings.

am still alive at 7:34 AM