One Great Conclusion

I've got a confession to make.

There was this hard lesson about 'the art of communication', about 'read between the lines' and about 'make a good partition' between rational mind and emotional feeling, started from April 12 to May 8. I'd been slapped in the face by the very shituation that I thought I could handle. I was wrong in pulling the leg of the person whom I thought could wipe all the clouds from my sky. Blah!

What I've got from this less-than-a-month relationshit: a loony is still a loony no matter how high the appreciation is. And yes, men are easily provoked and threatened by ways of women think and do.

Well, to tell the truth, I'm glad it's over. It's kinda underlining my own opinion about I'm so fucked no one could stand me for so long.

[Here I am, sipping marshmallowed Swiss Miss full of love and longing from your Mazbule, Jon, recollecting what you're saying on the other day. Woman needs a woman's girlfriend at times like these. I miss you already...]

Headstone for the brokenhearted. Hours to kill or flowers to steal. Headtrip for the mortal earthbound, one sip of the blood that I found lying here. I'm dying here.


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