This afternoon, I watched A cry. Every tear drop moved in synchronization with my heart. Yet I felt a tinge of disappointment – I thought she was strong. Oh well, I guess enduring 2 weeks of continuous constructive criticism can mean an overwhelming load of pent-up emotional stress. While R may be impressively professional, he’s also got a real knack for being a little too curt and sharp for anyone’s liking. Aye, too much literature can be very discouraging.
I knew what those swollen, puffy red eyes meant. She didn’t just want anyone to believe in her. It wasn’t just about anyone’s respect. She wanted his respect. She wanted him.
I wanted your respect. I wanted you to believe in me. I wanted you.
I could’ve made crazier, more unforgivable decisions/choices, be someone even more terrifying than who I am now. Be notorious. Be haughty. Be pompus. Be promiscuous. Be holy. Be unholy. Be unscrupulous. For the past few months, or decade, I’ve been running low on steam. Now I’m completely out. Another day to die inside, again. This could be temporary because it shouldn’t be permanent damage. Or is it? Whatever the case may be, I’ve convinced myself that I don’t wanna see the sun anymore. Hard life.