Μη μου τους κυκλους ταρασσε

What a difference a day makes.


(Be my satellite; be my moon. Will you?)

I have this gift/curse of making up hundreds of scenarios per minute in my head and they’re usually the worst-case scenarios; you know, the ones that make you depressed just by thinking of the possibility of them coming true. I guess "gift" is not the best word to describe it; especially since I’m not a scriptwriter. So it’s more of a curse as far as I am concerned.

(Prove me wrong. I need you to prove my scenarios wrong. Will you?)

I believe there is such thing as situational paranoia.

Please follow the safety procedures.