Well, am sitting at my window trying to drain it all out. It was all rosy, everything was picture perfect. It all looked good, and I believed things always get better. You never know which phase of your life is the best till it’s gone, far far behind you and you can’t even run back and have what you had. It’s gone.
Images constantly flash my head, they occupy it all the time. Am lost, trying to find a part of them in my life, none of them remains.
Love is a weird thing, a wicked thing. As long as you don’t love love it’ll love you. As soon as you start embracing it, it leaves you. A faker is better than the real one. A faker succeeds.
I don’t like the way it is. I fell in love with something else, not this. This is just anything. I guess am not good enough. Years of making myself into a good person, am like an ordinary thing. Well love isn’t what makes people fall in love, love isn’t something what people make love you, it’s your pedigree, your virtues, your capabilities, it’s just not love. Love can do nothing, they tell you, it’s just a useless wasteful commodity. The more you do, the lesser it gets. The more you do, the lesser you get. The more you do, the smaller you get.
1 comment:
i really liked wot u hv written here . plz continue writing .
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