Sitting in my room all alone staring at an empty wall, that's how My real story began.
It was a Monday, I read somewhere its called mourn day that's how it was for me. Am going back to work.
Whenever I go there I feel something inside me die a little bit, either through feeling exploited or the beat down when I do something bad. If you are wondering who does the beat down, that would be me beating myself up.
I guess that makes me a perfectionist and since I don't expect much from people it only applies to me.
