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I write a lot. Every seconds, every hours, every day, every month. But I realize you won't come back.


Does February March, but April May.

I've never got a chance to prepare any farewell speech to April. Probably because April sounds fool and gloom. 

April taught me to wait. To salvage and reserve myself. In order to keep alive and to find happiness. Sometimes all you have to do is faking a happiness in order to find one.

I know I keep comparing my own life to others. To be grateful for what I have now is the main ingredients for me to feel safe. 

So, should I apologize or confess my love?

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