All the characters within are writing poetry for themselves. Somehow they know I am tired of writing their stories and want to rest for a while. My life itself is a big mess, fighting over people who aren’t mine and climbing the ways that are so high that I could reach anywhere. I know I sound depressed whenever I talk about things I love but couldn’t own, where is my self-respect I guess it went out from home.
Why am I so much intrigued by every other person who is fine with losing love? Where am I going after the heartbreak that would come back? Would I be able to cope with the unclear thoughts or would I die overthinking about every little drop in the ocean?