I imagined. I imagined myself being your stylist. Your stylist that you even spoked to.
I was so happy. Because you spoke to me. Yes you. It may seem nothing cause you spoke to me. But I know that many have dreamt of my job right now.
Well who wouldn't be? A lucky girl who is a fan of the boys she works with.
But they don't know it hurts. Yes you talk to me. Civil talk, thats all. Cause even though you talk to me, it feel empty. Yes I'm happy. Yes I'm lucky. But that's it.
We talk because of our jobs, not as friends. There's no special feeling, just ordinary work.
But who am I to say that? I'm just imagining. Its not real. Its not true. Its just not.
I'm just imagining it. I'm not really in that position. So who am I to be hurt if I'm only imagining right?
I'm not them to truly know what it feels. What they feel.
But I was happy. Even in just imagining. Because for once, I got to be with them. Them who makes me happy. Them who are my inspirations.
.............. and them who are my life.
