The weather these days have been less than dreamy. The scorching killing sun when I open up my eyes, to the falling drizzle or downpour when night falls. Death Cab for Cutie has successfully made its way into my temporary mp3 player which I couldn't even squeeze more than 120 tracks into it. So I had missed lil paper biscuit.
The waves of pain still wash over at times far too many. But it is relieving to know that they aren't overwhelming. Perhaps I have cultivated a better control over them now.
Perhaps... Perhaps... Perhaps.
Now it all sounds so nostalgically peculiar.
I am a mute at home these days. Because they have proved all my hypothesis. Which you may call, facts now. I will not cry. Because it's really over. I have slipped away. I won't find crying so much of a joy now. To swallow the pain back in sounds much sweeter, in a sadistic fashion of course. And I know I have got my revenge. Because the physical pain you landed on me that night, ain't nothing compared to what I am giving back to you. She slipped away to a process of a prolonged vengeance. Watch me play.
Just admit that you're wrong. And I'll give back what I borrowed or stole.
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