I hate it when you pressure me to write. It's like being ridiculed just at the act of typing these words with my frail fingers on this fading keyboard. It is a pain to be this obsessive-compulsive and ponder over the littlest things like wanting to pee in the midst of this sea of words, or getting uncomfortable with my legs in this yoga position, or simply worrying about the grammar fails I'm making with this seriously long sentence.
Now I'm straying from the main topic by thinking of chambray shirts raining from the sky and getting all confused if I should delete this paragraph or not but deciding against it because the length is sayang. And now I'm lost for words. It's like mid-life crisis (in this case, mid-post crisis) and like I've said somewhere, it's like a block of wood is impeding precious oxygen from flowing in and out of my life system thus preventing me from producing a relevant blog post. Deng. I've lost relevance.
And I seriously do not know how to end this one. So help me God.