When I'm just waiting.
Waiting to get home, into my room, close the door, fall into bed, and just let everything out that I kept in all day.
That feeling of both relief and desperation.
Nothing is wrong, but nothing is right either.
And I'm tired.
And I just want to someone to be there and tell me it's going to be fine, it's going to be okay.
But no one's going to be there.
And you know?
No one could fix it, no one but my self.
And my self, still couldn't. Even just for open these door, for looking how mess this hall.
But I still pretend like there's nothing happen. Nothing. And I just let my self to follow the rhytme of the life, kept it all day, and let it burn in this bed until those sprinkles accompany me to sleep.
AZS
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