she loves me? she loves me not? she loves me? she loves me not!
isabelle told me not to gripe bout my non-existent love life so i shan't...no point really if anything is meant to be it will be, if it ain't too bad. life's like that, God decides, he has a plan.i ought to stop msg-ing her, get along with life,spend time with friends, workout, study hard, read books try to be an aspiring academic with a nice bod. i wrote a description of my life after rugby ends a few weeks back...this is it, all i can ask for.
he trudged along the deserted quay on a sunday afternoon, guitar in one hand, notes in the other. his limbs were tired from the laps in the pool but his mind remained sharp. the empty cafe seemed like an oasis among the hosts of deserted and empty clubs and bars. settling in, he sipped his coffee and proceeded to strum his guitar, playing songs that remind him of a girl he can only dream of but can never hold. when he felt like it, he would switch to looking through his notes, scribbling them down in an attempt to commit them to a memory already overloaded with details and worries. as the day wore on and the sun began to set, he strolled along the river in deep thought. looking up at the majestic hotel set forth in front of him, he wondered when he could be in the suite, sipping cocktails and rubbing shoulders with people who matter. beyond that lay the club, with its white washed walls and green roofs, another place of meeting for those who matter in society, the high and mighty. sitting there, waiting for his bus he strummed his guitar. playing a song for the girl he loved but would never love him back, a song for the dreams that remain dreams. at least for now.
he trudged along the deserted quay on a sunday afternoon, guitar in one hand, notes in the other. his limbs were tired from the laps in the pool but his mind remained sharp. the empty cafe seemed like an oasis among the hosts of deserted and empty clubs and bars. settling in, he sipped his coffee and proceeded to strum his guitar, playing songs that remind him of a girl he can only dream of but can never hold. when he felt like it, he would switch to looking through his notes, scribbling them down in an attempt to commit them to a memory already overloaded with details and worries. as the day wore on and the sun began to set, he strolled along the river in deep thought. looking up at the majestic hotel set forth in front of him, he wondered when he could be in the suite, sipping cocktails and rubbing shoulders with people who matter. beyond that lay the club, with its white washed walls and green roofs, another place of meeting for those who matter in society, the high and mighty. sitting there, waiting for his bus he strummed his guitar. playing a song for the girl he loved but would never love him back, a song for the dreams that remain dreams. at least for now.
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