The line

And this is a week gone. It happens. I also don’t remember having seen this wrinkle on you, either. How do you do it? How much energy have you invested in that line of yours?

Repeating one mistake after the other… You may think that’s stupidity, but it’s the unbearable compulsion to stretch beyond that mistake….what more wrong can you do to hurt that person, to prove that you are unworthy of their kindness…
Oh please.

Here is the creator’s third life, yes, a triple life. There is the novel, the blog and the so-called “real life”. And they don’t know, because you’re not telling them. They think they’re all you as one. Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. However, you say, on the literary aspect, all three make you, but they are to be separated, to be separated. It’s for your own good. Tell them.

Yes. Yes, you do. You envy all the married, engaged or taken people, but think about it; is your envy irrational if you say you don’t want to be in their place?

If you gaze downward as you speak, then there is an error in every word spoken, whereas if you look at them, you might kill them. So there’s nothing wrong with committing errors. People do that all the time.

Squeeze the head of the dead flower, you can still feel the leftover moisture; a sign of some life, or hope that will last a little longer. It dies last they say.

You can’t be you in front of anyone, you can’t share anything with anyone…underneath that grey nimbus, and they won’t ever be able to pierce through the camouflage. And it’s your own fault.

So now this line will forever carry that mistake which you will continue to commit…until they are all gone. You’re walking that line alone, do you know that?
Yes, I know.

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