Some days I want to write about beautiful things in rose-scented words shimmering with pretty metaphors. But it's funny how I always end up stabbing the blank sheets with the words straight from my core, flexing what's bottled up inside in black and white honesty.
From a distance, they look ugly with scars of different shapes and sizes mimicking heartbreaks from then and now. Upon closer inspection, they magnify the strength I once had, reminding me of the times I defied death (heartbreak) even if it looks a lot more like me now.
Truth be told, you don't die from a mere heartbreak. It does more than that. Much more that sometimes, it isn't surprising when it completely turns someone into a totally different human, he himself doesn't even recognize and like. I guess it's worse than dying. When you're still breathing but has long been dead inside.
amsterdam@a_wildflower I don't want to say a lot about it. I didn't even know that you did until when you told me about it in this comment. My friends here have been checking on me since I became inactive but you never did. Anyway, it's okay. I have a life outside mirakee. Something that I have to focus on instead of wasting my time here talking to strangers who will eventually forget about my existence. Take care of yourself too. Be good.