another page in my diary

Today I felt that I must write about my feelings :S It`s not an easy thing and not only because I`m not writing in my mother tongue... (I know that my English is poor)

Ok so let`s start. Every night I fall asleep thinking about my daily problems, friends, dead persons (that`s a little muhahha) n I hope that tomorrow won`t be as nonsensical as the previous  day. Everything is a routine and sometimes I become bored of this life...yea I know I should be glad about the nature, friends, gifts but I`ve found out that all these things are temporary and the most important thing in our lives is to discover our souls and to open them . That`s why I`m trying to do every single day but I always fail. 

Now I know. I`m like all the ppl: a sentimental and dreamy teenager. In vain I try to hide myself. I`m sentimental. I`m ridiculous. In this afternoon I`m sad. And I don`t have no reason to be sad. I shouldn`t be so. I`m looking at two poplars through the window.

I`m melancholic  so I`m stupid. Why am I so weak-minded and without personality? As a proof for my weak will: instead of fighting against this melancholy mood caused by those December clouds I started to write is this notebook ...the lines which will be never read by someone