Fristy-Chan

Every time someone asks, I get into a panic state, and I say that it is all oke. Nobody notice it. And that's because I do not want anyone worrying about me. It was for me a normal way of living. With so much fear that I was scared to dead . Nobody could help me. And so I will never tell anyone about it..

I'm sorry I'm sure you want that to mean alot of things but in truth it means one hurtful truth. I'm sorry I never loved you not in the way you would've wanted me to not in the way you needed me to, I'm sorry I loved the ideal of you and me the wonderful beauty that be birthed from our attractions more than I loved the person within that fantasy. I'm sorry I forced the delusion of perfection upon you and held you to those improbable expectations of my selfish imagination. I'm sorry that I placed the necessity of us above the desires of you. I'm sorry that I wasn't the guy you deserved and that I wasted my few chances with someone as wo

My fingers bleed words that my lips cannot say. When they try to trickle out, I scowl and turn away. It may not be contagious, but it is a disease. Holding myself deep inside, it's getting hard to breathe. Lies come so easy, to cover up the truth. It’s like my second nature, grown from my very youth. It’s deeper than conviction, more earnest than a thought. It’s my way It’s my life It is my disease.

A dying crimson blush as all life begins to fade while reaching to the hours of shade first giving way to fever's flush. Leaving behind spring's vernal lush none can resist the change seasons bade a dying crimson blush as all life begins to fade. The wind whispers a reverent shush between life and death beauty is made to this art Nature's paint is laid in the twilight all falls to hush   a dying crimson blush.