Hi.
I'm so afraid. My fear has intrigued me with the world's most common enemy. It's such a defensive cure for everyone's first mission, to see the future. But now, after one and half decades, after ticks by ticks, it kills me to the depth of everything in me. Growing and spreading rapidly like savages sparks just to kill me, emotionally. I won't talk about things if it doesn't bother me, so when I did it really means I need to bubble it out.
-weak-sissy-weak-sissy-weak-sissy-
To be in time to make times frantically memorable, I have to be freakin rushing. I was enchanted on how those mirrored numbers made me beautifully fascinated; dreams do come true thru it. But now, I'm typing with this avenge crashed on me. Wanting these grotesque stuffs transform to anything that could beautify it, itself like oasis that quench thirst.
May the best win, time.
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