Well it's had been a long time since I write a post (a real post that is, not just a ramblings). In this few days, I have experienced many goodbyes; one from my loved one (miss you so much tang), another from my friends that are going to pursue their studies (best o'luck down there, mates) and from many others that I couldn't see. Anyway let me tell you the story of a fool who wanted the best for everyone, someone who could think that he could giving happiness to those that he cared. He thought he could control it while walking the path and following the end that everybody has written for him, had they know him, comedic ends are ones he wanted to fill the photo-book, as tragedies are only enjoyable in loneliness. What could he do to the ends that he never writes though? letting his voice out would only bring awkwardness, as silence would only bring sequels.
He could only wait, for a time that hopefully would come, that they would realize it with the every senses they had, that it had been tormenting and aching to silently scream. That time would probably come, as he was written his own end surrounded by them, still a paradox he should be, he ironically never wanted comedy for his ultimate ends.
It's only a fiction, and yet I wanted you by my side always when I had my end tang, thanks for everything, and sorry if I always make you disappointed. I love you.
Now playing: Bloc Party - The Prayer