This might be the end.

I knew it was to early, it wasn't a good idea to come back here. I wasn't really ready for it, and it wasn't the good time for me.

I am grim and it can be seen in my writing no funny post, no more thing to talk about with an happy tone, or a thing that might be stupid enougth to upset me.

I am not sure I will kill this blog, I might buil a new one from scratch, something about things I like, things I do, but I am not quite sure it will interst people. who care about the life of a looser, who can only exist in the sport. People get easily bored about me and I don't really know what to do about that. Can I really change the inner me. Who is the inner me, a few people (Mrs E and mrs S) told me ercently that, I was the kind of guy that someone should learn to know. Problem I am not sure the outside reflects the inside. It's like a I don't know  oysters they don't look nice I mean who is the first human being that had the idea to open the rock to eat it this one was for sure insane. Or a tart tatin doesn't look like a nice cake, but it is indeed. Things are my outside is that crap.
Today I have been stab in a back on more time, and I really didn't see this one coming, but I guess I did deserve it. Even if I did it's still painfull.

I was listening to that on the car.

Sometimes it seems to me that songs are more than just words. That is exactly what could happened to me.

So sorry no happy twisted post about the climb, tonight way to grim. I don't even have the strength to apologies.

Anyway, there will be a sunrise tomorrow again.

There is a woman
Who lives in this town
That has my heart
Held in her hand

I see her in the
Streets every day
But I can’t find
The words to say

But if I were a writer
And could write a good hand
I’d write of this love
That I don’t understand

The words in my head
They come and they go
I’m thinking I love her
But she’ll never know

And if I were a sculptor
And had a good eye
I'd carve out her beauty
In marble or ice

But these hands of mine
Are far from refined
I guess I’ll have to accept that I am
Just an ordinary man
I'm just an ordinary man

Now if I were good looking
And had a pretty face
And if I could walk
And speak with grace

And if I had style
Then I
Wouldn’t have to look down when she walked by

And if I were a singer
And could sing a good key
I’d sing of this love
In melody

But this voice of mine
Is far from refined
I guess I’ll have to accept that I am
Just an ordinary man
I'm just an ordinary man

I know one day she’ll look
I know one day she’ll see me
And maybe that one day
She’ll want to be with me
And maybe she’ll love me
For who I am
Just as that ordinary man
Just as that ordinary man