I am always attached to the warmth. The vibrant colors, the glowing light, and the loud music. When I still paint the world from my own perspective. When I still see the people on their bright side. When I still choose to stay in the ray of sunshine. When I still choose to listen to my surroundings. But I didn't realize I'm bleeding my own paint. But I didn't realize I was blinded by the bright side. But I didn't realize I wasn't listening to myself. Slowly, the cold breeze killed the fire inside me. The fire that I used to keep the light - the fire that slowly burned me out inside and almost left me only with ashes. So to answer my own question... How The Cold Breeze Touched My Heart...