the real colour of life...

( please gaze on the "a painted life" chapter before you read this.. to understand which is real feeling and which is hypocritical statement)

but my love, i will never give up. no matter how much longer will it take. though, the longing is great, but memories of u i can rely.or is it just me trying to convince my heart? what my soul want is different. the surreal moment seems lively. what do we feel?

nothingness. that the feeling i get now. to know everything i knew was just the thing i shouldn't know, make me realize all I've known till now was just nothing. to live was my inspiration but now to leave everything might just be the right amount of vanity i can pursue. me, the aficionado of your memory want to psyche u up to know where can we go but all was just a fiasco.

not now, the past has spoken and tomorrow might be just late. what are we waiting? we hurt and love each other, but that was not the case. why should i care? we was so alone together. all the truth, joy and dream were merely social desire and wings to try to reach the sky. the clarity of you seems vivid to my eyes, but not clear to this soul. to take it as inauspicious will give rise to hatred, or is it just unpleasant?

bring me sadness and i shall give a flower, a green rose that never be seen in the world to just know they are only in paradise. the same i will take for the ache i brought. this pain was not real. this time is the last, i will draw my soul in the canvas of your dream. the colour will be our past. as the future will only be in black.