I think this is not proper. I guess I should just shrug this off. And I know this is useless. Why do I have to bother? Really. I’d really wish to end this – if only I could.

I’m tired of ignoring, tired of concealing, I don’t know how to stop this pain.

I can’t help but just wonder because all there is are bits, fragments of the real thing.

And I am trapped in a case, can’t think of anything but all those days.

Why does it have to be like this? I thought we do exist.

We’ve entered a world that lies on that thin line between reality and imaginary.

Or was it just me, all through these years, am I bound in a mockery?

Will you come up one day and tell me, so to stop this insanity.

From Me, To Him.

Fiction O'Clock

If you’re reading this, if you exist, I hope you will understand what I’m trying to say…
I hope you will believe me if I tell you that you mean the world to me.
I hope you will be mad when I make you mad.
I hope you won’t try to please me with words that hold no water, only to win me over… we will be past that, right?
I hope you will give me time to understand you, to understand us.
I hope you will pardon my cynicism.
I hope you will know me.
I hope you will take me out and pamper me, not with flowers or chocolates. But with those side-long glances and that handsome half-smile of yours.
I hope you will be there to nudge me and call me “Crazy” when I deserve it… And otherwise!
I hope you will let me know if…

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