*hidden entry #1*
you know, i'm someone with an overactive imagination, and i cant survive if i dont talk. i keep talking and talking and making noise and making more noise, because somehow, it absolves me from that painful task of imagining.
i imagine myself talking to me in the future. i imagine myself talking to a younger me. i imagine myself talking to some idol-crush. i imagine myself talking to some atas person. i imagine myself talking to you, as if nothing's ever happened. i imagine myself talking to you, three years later.
and then i collapse. i collapse in a huge heap of confusion. entangled within my own imagination.
it was awkward, isnt it? it was hard, no? did i cross the line? i simply dont know how to handle that ballooning sadness other than to pretend to be overtly happy. high-ness is the perfect mask for misery. and i'm reaching a point, where i no longer know if i'm pretending, or i'm really high.
i'm making it awkward for everyone, right?
i'm sorry. i dont know what to do anymore.
心还是很痛。没有办法忽略的痛。
i really miss you. i miss us.
