There is nothing more disappointing than writing two pages soaked with the deepest emotions and brave ideas that your tired lonesome head could create.
There is nothing more disappointing than giving a voice to your new inspiration and redefinition of of time -both situationally doomed.
There is nothing more disappointing than an old Toshiba lap top unexpectedly shutting down itself in the middle of your sentence, violating your tought, raping your hand while typing the words.
There is nothing more disappointing than the cynical fact that the same old Toshiba lap top does not even slightly bother to save your writings.
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