After an year and a half living with people, I understand the saying living with a stranger. Some times I even feel myself as being a stranger. Unable to talk right, or do right I stumble around my apartment wondering who I am and what the hell did I do with that wonderful, full of sunshine girl I once was. Have turned myself unwillingly into an old hag, or this is just age and solitude turning me into a hateful spite?
What is it that draws our patience and tolerance towards the other so thin? Why from not being able to live without each other we now pass our lovers with disdain and boredom? I cannot recognize you anymore, you fool.
GIVE ME BACK MY ME!
No comments:
Post a Comment