And only cats are familiar with me. I send my regards to them. The stimuli will be ignored by me. Music is screaming in my ears, or so that I can't hear the screaming people. There's no one around. Silence. There's loneliness all around. I hadn't heard, and I didn't know who I was... Knowing that it's all mine, but it's all a damn repetition, I keep rearranging the words in different order. And I don't give a fuck if you don't like it. This is someone who writes and is constantly nervous. I'm a Nervous writer.