Prelude

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I am a dreamer.

It's always go like this: inside of my room, a milk on the table, me sitting in my swivel chair, facing my laptop, typing literary pieces for him.

Of him being peculiar and aesthetically different from all the boys I have met in the campus.

Of him being so amazingly created by God with those sweet smiles I won't ever get tired of seeing.

I crave for him.

I long for him.

He is my safe haven.

Someone who gives life to my crumbling galaxy when I feel so lonely along my way.

The man who makes me feel safe out of the chaos the world brings.

Yes, he is.

My sweetest escape to my depression and anxieties I have been suffering for so long.

The one who saves me by the sound of his name, connecting himself to the deepest part of my soul and it is so selfish of me that I just want him to stay there.

I really would like him to stay there.

He... is my first love.

But I guess I am not the one for him.

The one who will willingly drown by his words 'cause my only part in his life is just to provide spaces in between so he could breathe by the beauty of the lyrics he writes.

The one who can bear the pain of him being so tired, working until dawn and even sleeping late hours at night just to serve the world by his music.

And we are the kind of art that will never be together by just a small amount of ink and a single page of paper.

'Cause he dreams to be a singer...

And I dream to be writer.

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