Enough of writing about rain pelting on my window. Enough of picking flowers in my head, colorful flowers in lavender and white and pink - lillies and jasmine and sunflowers.. enough of my love of words, enough of me, enough of reasons. Enough! Why doesn't all of this end and leave me to me? LEAVE!
Frustration finds no carefully chosen words when it reaches its zenith. I must sleep now. I must put myself to sleep. Good Night.
PS: Are we who we want to be, see ourselves as, the person we really, intrinsically know ourself to be, or are we what we do?
