I do not write so that my words would be loved or hated. I do not write for you to read. I write for me to vent out. I write for me to cope with you. I write to forget you, I write to remember the old you, and I write to get over the whispers, the indifference, and the selfishness you throw in my face. I write to scream with all the will I have inside of me, and I write to exist where you don’t. I write for me.
Filed under: Personal Experiences, Thoughts
nice