I'm tired of living a hell in reality and also thinking of hell when I'm trying to dream something beautiful about me. I don't want to admit that my demons are winning in every battle. I don't want to admit that I am who I am. I want to prove others and myself that I am what I'm dreaming and not what I'm living. But I don't know why I can't. There's something in front of me that seems so powerful, so enormous, so scary that I don't know how to destroy it, when all I feel to do is to hug it. Maybe you could say it's a monster. A monster that I can't touch, I can't see, but only feel.
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My Secret Phone Notes
PoetryWords, sayings, thoughts of mine and maybe somehow poetry which are written in my phone's notes and nobody sees and knows about them but they keep deep secrets of mine that I'll never have the strength to say. Writing is my escape because there are...
