I miss writing. My language suck now.
I miss writing. I miss writing so freely where I don't care whatever people might think or assume from reading my words and thoughts. I miss making art through words in poetry, through acts in theatre, through colours in painting even they all suck big time. I think there is one point at my life when I start to realise that my thoughts and views can be different, that it can be hurtful, that it can only be understood by my own secluded self and a few minds that shared the same notions of life with me.
I don't know when I start have negative notion with people.
I...
February 20, 2016
February 2, 2016
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