“They’ve promised that dreams can come true - but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too.” — Oscar Wilde
Friday, August Last of 2018.
I had no hesitation dragging them away to somewhere covered in solitude. I put much force into and piled up my anger on my way to.
As I remember, there, it was ten and half an hour in the night, as I made my being well prepared to have some sleep. Fun and games won't describe that night well. Apparently, parts of me were slightly bundled up in the phase of where darks acted as one kinda blanket, coated my bad temper to be trapped and transformed into things that were filled up with no etiquette.
Name it a bravery with a piece of tremble. I put no shame in applying experiments, making them as same as a ham you could do any way of, as in dicing them into parts, slicing them thin, or tearing them apart. I needed no trial and errors. I had my action in one-go, as in sliding them down like a pro. I experienced everything like a numb, achieving happiness and playing no regrets.
Like, God, did I really?
This pretty concludes something creep, you may say. I wish I know where they came from.
