Cloudy days were my favorite of all. Wait. Stop right there. That sounds weird. That sounds like I have several favorite days. And I don't have several favorite days. Favorites are meant to be single. Like bachelors. Favorites are supposed to be the one best thing/item/person/sexy guy who is shirtless and in your bedroom (not saying that I have more than one in there, or even one) out of a certain category. So let me rephrase that sentence.
Cloudy days were my favorite days of all the days there were to choose from. Still sounds weird. But, beginnings can't be perfect I guess. Or else the moment when you were started to be created (egg meets sperm-first date-first kiss- blah blah blah), you would have been perfect. No punett squares to represent how you got your traits or whatever. It would have just been: BAM! BAM! BAM! The epitome child of perfection is ready to enter the world, in six seconds after an unprotected, risky, and fruitful... game of love.
But anyways, that was the beginning of the story of my life. Actually, the beginning of a story of my life. Quite in depth and humorous, don't you agree? Nah. Not that deep, and not funny at all. But... I at least I did try. I know, I know, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Well Mr. Whoever-made-that-saying-up, if you always aim for success (basically AKA money, liquor, recognition, good- I mean amazing, since that word strikes more of a success-ness in my heart than good- grades, and/or pretty boys/girls) every time you work on a task, I sure hope you have a wad of a thousand lifetimes tucked in your money-clip.
ANYways (again), I hope you enjoy those scatter-brained musings. Cause you'll be hearing plenty of them, soon enough.
