Mon. , Sept. 8
I remember the day in last year. It is like today. I write diary in last year, and now is so. In last year, I seek job for tutor, search some penpal and meet some p.f. who I don't like. Now, it is so.

I don't know hot to script my feeling. In my plan, I should not be here and not study in graduate school. I should be a public servant or be a soldier. But it is not so now. The true is that I don't know what I do for now.
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