nothing matters

i love to write short stories and novels.. its the only thing that make me escape from my reality. Sometimes i cant help myself not to wish that my stories are me. that i was there.. that i was the one receiving these happy endings. i know i always telling myself that someday i'll have my own happy ending. Its just tiring that i was waiting for it. tiring of thinking about it and that's the most tiring to do, to wait for it. maybe that was the reason of all my frustrations and depressions.. That was the result of my imaginations of wants and needs and dreams.

end of my speech... end of my words...

nothing to say but

nothing matters to me

not true...

i dont know...