cry, crow, cry
in all these secret sharings of secrets, whisps of my life typed out on a boring night, i can’t help but feel a sense of flamboyancy. blogging never was for me; i didn’t know how to appeal to the public audience. funny, i know. i was never the outward orphan, more like a sheltered shy-away [...]
by grace.
i think i’m letting go of many things. you, especially. those seconds of serenity were well worth my year-old ache. but then again, was it letting go, or merely setting free. yes there’s a difference. because i didn’t want to lose you. no, not just yet.
sigh. i like this time :]
