foLLoW yOur hEaRt iT mIgHt nOt aLwAyS bE rIgHt bUt dEspiTe tHe pAIn yOu'LL hAve mEmOriEs tHaT'LL mAke yOu sMiLe eVeN oNCe aNd eVerY rArE whiLe...
>> QuaNdArY <<
tHeRe it iS aGaIn... spur of the moment... i dunno where it was, what it is, when it will be... evolution of predicament...
he : hey! hi... she : eh, hi... here with? he : friends lar... cya she : oh, alright... enjoy (a long while after...) he : where are you? i'm feeling sick man, giddy... she : downstairs, getting sick, jialat.. he : take good care, becareful... she : i'll try, you dun care anyhow.. he : who says? i do ok... she : cut the crap.. (glad though suspiscious) he : why are you like that? she : you made me like that he : ... she : you should know me he : i do, that's why i know you are not you... she : oh, that WAS me. she's dead.. I can't feel.. *cynical laugh* he : (sarcastic) glad you're doing FINE now she : that's what you assume, no comments. he : do you have to be so cold? she : am i? sorry, gtg... he : (watched her leave)
she's become apathetic... this is cliche but the doings can't be undone... she uses her indifference to veil the stabbed wound... revealing her scar may do her no good... it'll only debilitate her tenacity to withdraw from grief... she allows no sympathy - simply because this the very substance that conceives the wound...
