While writing, I am still trying to compose myself. Telling my own mind how fast the world moves. For a while, I wished some moments were made to last. These memories keep chasing me, like a little boy who cries for his mom, reaching out and strecthing out as far as he can, trying to cope, but always seemed to fail. 2011. I painted a few rainbows, and stepped on a few muds. The most disturbing fact of all, is that I stopped believing in love. I finally faced the cold hard fact that forever never did existed. Yet, I tried to remember what it felt like. Almost there, and I fell right back into my cave. Right behind the walls I alone built, because of this tiresome game, because of the bruise festering non stop, because of human's selfishness and because of my broken self. I had contained myself, yet I miss those feelings, I still want those feelings, but my fear had grown stronger than my will. And lusts, they're having a riot, but my dignity enforced powerfool troops. Someday I wished, I'd find the little girl who believed in fairy tales. Someday I wish, the little girl will find its way back home to this soul less beating heart.

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