Since 7 o'clock, 16th, June, 2011, I came into a dream, a dream that could exhaust me, hurt me and even kill me. Now I am in the state that can realize this is a dream, but still can't get myself out of it. Yesterday was really cold here in São Carlos, I suddenly thought that oh geeze, maybe England is reminding me that Hey Baby, you are still there. Maybe I didn't close the window when I fell asleep in my tiny bedroom, and now Manchester is blowing its wind to tell me that. Bad... really bad. Sometimes a little thing can ruin a whole wonderful dream and I seriously hate that.
I don't know when I became such a pussy, but ever since I could fall in love, I told myself not to. Always fall for it after him. that's a thing to remember. But life is funny, it always goes against you. whatever you think, whatever you want to do, the opposite happens. Isn't it a pathetic point of my life to cry on?
I can sense that the same thing's gonna happen again. I will be happy, absorbed, expecting the same effort and passion and BONG! Even if I think it should be 6, not even 10, it will turn out to be 3. I guess that's why my standard is never low.
Please don't blame me on not carrying hope any more. It's only because of the pessimistic mentality that I have, or is it because the whole world is like this?
Tell me is only because of me.
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