And so, I type again. I don't know how to start this. What should I say exactly? This feeling is so foreign to me now, typing on a fully functioning keyboard, actually allowed to share my thoughts as fluidly for me as possible. There's just so much that needs to be recorded, I won't say that these are the best years of my life because no one will ever know tomorrow, but we remain thankful for it still.

I’ve stopped tweeting. It feels good to work on something new. After all that seems to be what my entire life is about right now, the pursuit of "new", perhaps I shouldn't generalize it so, I mean on average I can be satisfied by the simplest of means, perhaps I meant to say is that I am on the hunt for something "new" in my percentage of human interaction. I'm always fucking with this person or that person, with no malicious intent of course, simply out of pure boredom. Human beings are the most dazzling of puzzles one can amuse one’s self with.

And I've always loved puzzles.

My life is very interesting right now, there are a lot of big fucking intrigues, a lot of scandals and a lot of laughter (stemming from one human), honestly every day I wake up I think "What will show on Gossip Girl Femi today?"

I'm going to write about all my exploits, it needs to be recorded before it is forgotten.

Moping achieves absolutely nothing.

I don't know why we keep on employing the use of it.

I'm determined to give myself everything I deserve, I won't lose, I won't let anyone win, all I have to do is ask and it will be mine, I understand that small part of this gigantic world, I understand that part of my soul. Ask and it shall be given. The age old tale of success within ones self.

There's not really a lot to say once you've said that.

A lot's been going on man, And I find myself just standing and watching as it all flows around me. Like in those speed shots where the world is buzzing and this once human being is just standing there staring. I've become easily detachable, easily bored and more unwilling to invest in other human beings emotionally.

I haven't had successful sex in like a million years. It'll be the icing on the cake when I finally get some.

Too many niggas and not enough hoes.

Funny enough... I miss you. But I'm gonna be strong. Cause I want nothing but honesty.

So here, I'm back.

On the verge of going to a party, my closest friends party, that I actually don't want to go to buying all those those ciggs and drinks, not because I'm looking for a fix but because I think I'll look good with a blunt between the delicate finger’s of my brain. You know why?

I'm a poser, I'm always posing unconsciously. Even when I don’t want to.

I kid myself. I’m never just that ONE person.

You never will know or understand me.

Am I scaring you?

Good.

That fear drives me more than anything else, your inability to understand why I can smoke, why I have no qualms about wearing bathroom slippers to a big function, why I'm so terribly mentally attractive with an underlying tone of repulsiveness.

So you 900 or so people who don't even know me, sitting there making all these assumptions about my life like I give two thousand shits what the fuck you think of me, wanna know why it's so easy for me not to care?

From experience, I’ll stop having great sex at 70. I have less than 50 years to have great sex. Why the hell should I worry about you when my time is so limited? What the hell are you contributing to my life?

And this is why you can't stop watching me.

This is more than you.

This is going to be something your children will know.

Your children's children and those after that.

And the eternal question will always be "Why?"

And you'll never realize that that's also the answer.

Nuevo Bueno.