An old friend of mine asked about a week ago, what’s my life purpose.
And I told, straight to her face, without hesitant, that I wanted to die as soon as possible.
And also, the fact that I’m not the best person you could ask.
Hah. Gila.
Like the remark from some brother of mine, in one of my journals, scrawled in blank ink, in one of them blank pages;
“Who are you?”
Who am I indeed.
From one person to another, we impart on them different impressions, in different course of times. Only sometimes, the very same impressions strike differently on different people, who in behind their looking glass, see different things. A different perception. And when met again, these two figures, long parted, buried beneath the strife of whatever things that has come to past, but never, and never will be, forgotten, they both hold different views of each other. And suddenly what was then was not now, he, she, has changed, and you bite your lips in bitterness, cursing the passage of time.
And this is where you and I must part.
perkaraperkara 