Just like any broken-hearted female, I too am sitting on tears. Listening to the voices in my heart on how to deal with my tomorrow. Tomorrow of feeling terribly low, tomorrow of drillling silence into head, tomorrow of quietness in capsule, tomorrow of facing a fulltime wanker, alarm at 4.30 am and tomorrow of make no mistake wherever I go whatever I do.
I felt so triumph and looking almost pretty yesterday after hearing his plan of getting married in a mosque.
Few heavy-breaths later, dream bubbles burst, down the manhole our mosque goes.
It’s my past. Not him.
My horrific past couldn’t offer anything except for panic-attacks to both hearts till both souls could no longer keep in touch. Next, emotions turns rebellious.
I am sorry, heart. I was supposed to feed u but I end up sending u back to the past.