then, as i flipped through the pages of my journal my memory of being alone with books and starbuck's hot tea in barnes and noble continued. i remembered i grabbed a book which, pitty, i didn't write its title other than some of the chapters inside. my journal continued with the writing of those chapters.

i don't know why, as to right now, i chose those chapters to be written in my journal.

the only time a woman really succeeds in changing a man is when he is still a baby

put a silk on a goat, and it's still a goat

we commonly confuse closeness with sameness

apperently the book i grabbed sounded like a relationship self-help book.