We all grow out of our clothes.

Nov 05, 2012 19:51

On a feverish day, years ago, I decided to turn my heart into words. To translate myself on full sentences, slice up my life with commas, end it up with round black dots. The best way I could exercise my identity; a escape exercise, perhaps. But never such useless escape - from oneself, to within - disguised itself so well from an actual ( Read more... )

journal's end.

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Comments 11

anonymous November 12 2012, 17:16:42 UTC
Yeah, it's time.

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