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diary.. ? what a hell.. who the hell needs it.. just a bit sad.. sittin in my chair and typing something i do not know.. i don't really care wether somebody reads it or not.. morisette is singin her one and me wantin a good cigarete now.. what a hell makes us happy.. for example me.. i got job.. house.. things i wanted.. and i got it by myself.. nobody helped.. that's cool.. but.. i don't really feel happy a'bout it.. am i alone.. ? not a hell.. then what.. ? maybe i'm not doin the thing i really want.. but i know i can never compose house of the rising sun as animals.. can never be anderson or page.. but i really want to.. i really want i had that damn habit or somethin like that.. gift from god or whatever.. to play and compose.. the things that will never die... strange.. never try to be a god bigger then u are.. we r all gods.. all of us.. just we need to find it in ourselves.. sometimes lookinn from the window, i see all this city.. everybody doin somethin.. it's night.. and damn pleasurin cold breaz passes across your body.. i got my cigarette and i feel like god... hard to explain or imagine.. but's that's true.. u need to be a Z if u want to feel what felt Z.. cause nothin repeats.. and nothing.. nothing remains the same..