I betrayed those words that once give me passion to move on, now became a dump to throw away my negative feeling.

They let me to create story, one after another, even I have no audience but I felt much happier when I’m just alone with words form into a strings of sentence and turn pieces of my imagination to a story even I’m not fluent enough to communicate nor ever carve them into an epic adventure but just a slice of short story I create with them enough to touch my tears, I never felt as fulfilling and living compare to what I doing now.

I missed you, I yearn for the times we have so much fun together, meeting new friends with the same meaning, look you up on the dictionary to found out who you are because I’m scare to place you on the wrong places and people would laugh at you when they read. I remembered… that you taught me the definition of ‘limitless’, but is it enough?

I wanted more out of me but I gaining lesser each time I practice new skill, the same pencil I used to write you became so hard to hold, so distant… I can’t grasp properly, the lines are not listening to my heart like you…

I wanted to be heard so badly, I’m dried! I tried!

its hard… I struggled in the brink every time I pick up the pencil, how can something I so familiar and loved me became such stranger and uncomfortable to be with…

Who are you?


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