𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗮𝗺, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝘀 𝗜 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗹 𝘂𝗽 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗱𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘁𝘀, 𝗜 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘂𝗽 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲. 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘬.

''You drew stars around my scars, now I'm bleeding..'' A book written as way of introspecting ,to correct all the wrongs and to forgive myself. Welcome to my world, a world of pain, suffering , loss and heartbreak, a world of a psychopath.

Thoughts, just random thoughts.

I remember such a confusing past as I write this: A soft, enticing time when I was young, jubilant and eager.....Then swimming into a deep mucky river of teenagehood. And there at that moment of drowning I lost her. Not all of her......But most of her. Just when I agreed that love must have had a restraining order against me I found him. And there I found myself.