The Diary Ecca

Prologues

Dear Dairy's,

I never knew the meaning of the word love. I don't know what it's like to love and be loved, but I'm sure that love exists and will come to me at the right time.

If you were faced between two guys roughly who would you choose what is your senior brother who always pays the same attention to you? or, even a cool new neighbor next to the house that turns out to have the same hobby as you?.

Actually I'm not the type of person who understands about love, but why do I somehow feel so worried? I don't know if it's just my feelings? Or am I being naive and misrepresenting it?.

ooooo

Some feelings don't want to be perpetuated. They just want to be tucked away and released at a good time. No, not because the word while it's fun, the fact is, the short one will never be worth it.

What is the name of this feeling? He's gone, thousands of miles away from me. At first he didn't exist just as a taste, then suddenly he reappeared then I had to mention what this feeling was?

Is this love?

This is the story of a young man with a teenage girl who just first felt in love, will they be able to love each other or will they even hate each other?. I can't deny what I feel and what I think. Exactly as Scott told me, "When you present your most vulnerable side of yourself, that's when your weaknesses arise. I've told you many times, don't bring feelings. When you become a sensitive, naive and stupid Ajeng you lose all your sympathy and charm.

When there is anger, disappointment, sadness, heartache that comes to you, you can immediately feel, how your soul is swayed by weakness. People will see you as a contradictory person, who is unfriendly and unpleasant. So it's easy for them to forget that Dee is full of vitality, joy, joy, positive, creative, beautiful, charming, sensual, seductive, friendly and kind....

Gurgling sounds of rain gnashed on the leaves. A pointed voice clanking in the heart, seemed to say my name. Is that a voice, sweetheart?

How to translate this feeling of longing? Distance, like a stretch of haunted and scary old graves. Shedding deep wounds like shakes that come and go. Lightning and thunder were not weary of soaring in the sky.

The dark shadow of the forest entered my eyes like a ghost. And the whimpering wind was like pushing a million questions I don't know what the answer is, "Are you thinking about me now too?"

And the voice was still heard, calling out from a distance. Unrelenting, calling my name. 

You radiate your happiness from hidden springs. Like when the sea tides under the gentle gaze of the sun brings indescribable joy. A pair of five fingers spread to the four corners of the ocean while delivering puja to the almighty. He gives us all pleasure. He is the one to whom we return.

Touching the magical center of longing, peppering with previously unknown feelings of garratry. Time that maps all ancient memories of our mortal bodies, it has grown into a afterlife memory of the dense wilderness and a small sandalwood in the middle of a remote island surrounded by beautiful valleys and silver hills that you once often explored.

The mountain towering in the distance seemed to be challenging to conquer. The blue sky above the barren field stretched far into a peninsula that had never been touched before. Everything that used to be just part of the trajectory of history, but now forever has been a reminder of you. All that once revealed the entire trail of your firecrackers and conquests. The landscape of all the riches you now keep in your personal treasury. The wild nature of the horizon of thought and the treasure of feeling is barely pervaded.

There are no more secrets that you cover from our eyes, other than the deepest recesses of the trough hidden behind your dreams. Truly, no more happiness can represent our present feelings, for you have allowed us to be eyewitnesses; the desire of your desires, the longing of your longings, the love of your love.

How can we repay your innumerable kindness? For only the sincere words of what is unspoken yet we have been content to witness will fulfill all the promises of all that you have given but we will never have. But that's enough for us, all of us, for you have allowed us to admire the panoramic beauty of what you have been keeping in close quarters as an heirloom treasure that only the king can enjoy.

Sadness is like a silent lake on the mother's wall. Sobbing walls and carving up my childhood. How lonely was I at the time? Really am. I don't understand why I made that wall cry? It was like a home to me. Where I sleep and sleep at night. Where I play with my solitude. Then why did I make her cry?

There are things I wanted to forget from my childhood. Seconds of meaningless. Anger that slowly scorched and then swept through my heart. But now it is no longer fire. It has become cold. Why is the wound still there?

Wasn't I the man raised by my mother's wall? Why did I turn away from him? Why am I wearing that mask, just to see him smile? I've become another man. The man who wasn't the kid he grew up with. There are many masks that I wear. One is loneliness, the other is anger.

I know, I made him sad. The wall had long since been transformed into a tree with old skin, peeling in many places. The branches began to grow and the leaves of the fallen leaves, scattered where. It was no longer the tree I used to climb. No, it is not another tree. Except myself. I am the one who has changed. Like a suddenly dark blue sky. Like a cloud that overshadows the heart that ceaselessly cries.

To be a man, do I have to sacrifice my own feelings? Whether to be a man I had to leave my childhood only to listen to the voices of others; the grudges, swearing, scorn and reproofs that are often hurtful.

ooooo