Recycling

The Same Rain

I want to make a newspaper. More comfortable of course. It does not contain news, but contains words of affection in it. I don't know, I hope my strength is capable and can make it. The longest newspaper in the world or the best newspaper is up to you.

I'm right here. White Elephant Country, still silent staring, read the soft letter from the figure of my lover. Repeatedly to stick firmly in my memory. He was also the same, not putting a mobile number in it.

The same rain that day. The sky spilled clear water. The wind sounded. I looked out the window and his voice was sweet. The cold felt. This is the morning paper, read it.

Did you know that from what was seen in the vision there was something that was a matter of whether or what, the newspaper was named. So there may be an understandable explanation of all this or nothing at all.

Can this writing be read? Lt could. This article can be read clearly. Sorry, this article does not give much of the most beautiful impression, how much content of the sentence can be assembled. I have long wanted to try something new, have long wanted to know something completely unrelated.

In the silence of the vulnerable brings sorrow. In musical accompaniment, European or classical songs are the same for me. This is the feeling I feel now.

Accompany raindrops that fall to the earth. From the sky the clouds rose. The colors and wounds of the past seem to tell me solitude is better or with someone who is able to spend the day in peace.

Share stories of joy and sorrow. Spending all sorts of flavors left in the matter of emptiness. A soul that has grown tired of remembering everything, faces problems day by day.

The smile of the simplicity of the word contains a race event in the dryness of the word bermandi despair. Too long this self was silent, staring at the room lamp which was now accompanied by the sound of rain from outside.

It's almost the same as it used to be. Almost got me to know about the lost love, the love that has gone from carpenter to builder.

Breatheable. Taking a shower or shower under the rain. Yes, take a shower to be clean, but do not be long, will hurt.

Is correct. It's just a newspaper. Everything I write. Other people laugh enough to be more enjoyable while drinking coffee. It's nothing, but I just want to know the extent to which I can describe the figure of the lover who is blocked a distance of thousands of kilometers and about a very deep longing. My vocabulary is barely able to describe it.

My feelings are silent. My heart thump felt something that somehow felt like a giant snowball released from the top of a hill and slid to the end of a river.

“You're crazy!” I remember one of the comments I read on one of the forums. Look, madness or what? Never mind, make peace.

How good is it to write negative comments? It seemed like, it would be better for me to shut up or leave without explanation. In an age of sophistication, others are free to communicate. Freedom without control from the binder is like a wild horse without a bridle. He will move freely to destroy the atmosphere or hurt others, wild horses that stand under the raindrops.

Rained out. Past memories that were missed in the breath sighed. Through random words I found a smile and a sense of airiness from sadness. My diary is littered with annoyance.

I was annoyed staring at the lingering silence. Confused myself, I don't know why I do it so often? I don't want to know more about things that make me uncomfortable. For me right now it is enough to be silent without knowing more about sadness.

Imagine a joke that can make my feelings calm and hope to lose despair.

Unite in marriage.

I don't want to date. Imagining Wapta as my wife has made me happy, especially if I become her husband later. I sighed, rubbing my slightly watery eyes.

This miss has warmed the heart. The same tears came out without my will.

The longing that I often write on paper. Both writing and typing computer. Keep it and always reread word to word.

Mournfully. It even feels sore and my cure right now is just writing. I don't know what the writing is about? Whatever, I was confused to find the feeling raging inside me. Shaded by the vast ocean, sailing through the ocean until it ended up finding a treasure that was able to calm me down.

Looks like the rain is starting to subside. The water stopped falling. I was still staring at the lights of the room. Being alone is certainly more fun. Such was my current memory of being alone, grateful to remember about him that almost made me realize how much I was not an important person in this world, but just an ordinary person who could be forgotten just like that.

Thank you ....

There's a lot I can't say directly. One of them is thank you. I am too much in the writing. In fact, just saying it these lips will be silent, silent thousands of languages without people knowing I was sad and so forth.

Sometimes the rhythm of music makes me feel good about myself. In the rain that began to fall. I decided to get up from lying down, trying to remove the shadow of Wapta in my mind.

There are many things besides Wapta that I can think of from all the words in the book in thick volumes, but to me remembering them even for a little while is a must in the days I live. It was as if it had become the most beautiful habit. It was as if it had deeply rooted through into the deepest layers of soil.

If anyone asks me about this longing, I will explain it enough just the height of the tree that is often touched by the wind, the leaves are waving. Memories with him often appear, arriving uninvited like the wind. My memory is as big and as tall as the tree I had been picking up.

My heart feels hot. Burned by the fire of longing that constantly blazes blindly at sight. Moreover, this often happens that makes my night did not sleep soundly imagining the figure of the lover who is far away there.

Like the raindrops I can't count. Such is my same longing as the drops. The same rain in my opinion with the feeling of longing that is currently in the heart of the cloud cloud cloud cloud cloud cloud rose, then fell giving water droplets that washed the earth. Clean, cold and so on.

I'm tired of trying to forget Wapta. His figure is always present in my memory. More than anything. Makes me know the simplicity of the word longing enough to meet. When's?

I want to fly there. It's just, there are activities I can't leave behind. Did you know that the land of the white elephant is like tying me up for various reasons. I'm busy with a confusing schedule.

College focus. That's what I'm currently doing, but I'm not going to make it at length about college. That's my special life, I don't need to tell you.