Paste tape to life
I've tried so hard to walk with you. Man can walk for a while. Then he starts hurting, slowing down. The tape is sticking and continuing. She puts on a dressing and a little rests. Then he sees and agrees that all workarounds. After all, he loves shoes, but he has no choice but to change his shoes.
You just sit at home. You sleep up until noon, you sleep on the Internet until the morning you do not sleep, from evening to morning action movies, animal world documentaries look. If you come inside, you sweep the house, wait two days and then nail two nails and I applaud you. I'm showing you the boards that you're into. I'm probably trying to show you what's working against you, what it does for you. I'm looking for a reasonable reason not to stand by. I'm trying to convince myself.
But, you know, I've been trying to find a way to get married to you, and the reasons I'm trying to find are getting less and less. How many times have I told you that? I guess you didn't take it seriously. You thought I wouldn't go. I thought I would stay with the family against the sun, and that I would continue to fight to keep our marriage alive. You believed me somehow I wouldn't, and I couldn't be alone.
Let me ask you a question. Who wouldn't be trying to take the shoe that struck your foot? Now you're gonna tell me I'm the shoe that hit you? Let me answer you with the question: Aren't you?
You probably still don't want to understand me. I don't really know how to tell you any more clearly. Last time I tried typing.
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