I need a chance,
To make mistakes,
To hurt somebody,
To cry.
So that,
I can learn,
I can grow,
I can remind myself of who I am.
To make mistakes,
To hurt somebody,
To cry.
So that,
I can learn,
I can grow,
I can remind myself of who I am.
I am....
- Sihan
- A melancholy writer. My language is crooked and my voice is blatantly piercing. Though I love irony and satire, I can never be a good writer. When I realize my I'm not capable to capture soul in my story and freeze the marching of the story, I know I'm destined to be a mediocre writer. Maybe people will recognize me by style, but is style my flaw? Does style highlight flaw that I wish to conceal? I'm more confused in the mayhem realm of my naive hallucination now. Can I free myself? Not by writing i reckon because who wants to listen to a blurred voice, reads an ambiguous story and visit a hapless bedlam where joy is devoid?
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