I have known him for more than four years. But sometimes when I look into his eyes, there is something familiar yet so strange.
He loves me. That I know as much, he tells me that everyday. And yet I feel my love feels so immature compared to his. His love is protective, patient and kind. I think he has an old beautiful mind that sometimes I cannot grasp. A love that I don’t understand and understand.
But I think I like that he is a mystery and a familiarity. I want to take time and know more about him.
I used to keep a different WordPress page. It’s full of fictional stories and poems. I guess you can say that my style was something out of a children’s storybook. My muse however had left me and my inspirations had stopped for more than a year now. I still try to write once in a while, but my imagination is no longer as grand as before.
Someone told me maybe because my preferences, or I myself had changed and so I won’t be able to write fiction anymore. I still like to runaway into worlds of fiction. It’s just that I cannot create my own anymore.
I like to think I am the same person one year ago. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. Or both, a troublesome little gray area. Either way, I write what I can.
Thank you for visiting my page.
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