Later edit: The little mouse read my last post and knew exactly what, and more than that, whom I was talking about in the first place. He read through me just like the knife cuts through butter.
Strangely, I felt glad. I don't feel confortable with being closed up towards other people and I don't make a fuss out of being alone and misunderstood.
Seeing the mouse guess exactly into my soul made me feel awkwardly confortable, a feeling similar to that when an old friend busts into your home unannounced, when the house is dirty and the bed is unmade, but you don't care shit about that because you are so glad to see him again.
HERO OF THE DAY: The little mouse, for reasons that are self explanatory.
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