Sometimes I just get some flashbacks of when I was a little kid. I remember things so horrible that I so wish I can’t remember. The vivid image of that boy lighting himself up on fire. The sound of the explosion and how he screamed in pain. I remember all that.
Life has been throwing rocks at me, wishing I’ll get hit. But no.
I bet you wish I was gone. I bet you wish that I had nothing. I bet you wish that I had turned into nothing but earth a long time ago. But no. I won’t go down that easily. You know how I don’t give up. Right from when I was in my mother’s womb and during my growing up, I have been fighting for my life. I won’t just let you take something I’ve worked so hard for.
So… quit playing. Don’t throw rocks. Throw me roses and kisses. I deserve them, don’t I?
Tell me I’m young and being dramatic but seriously. When did age decide how much we’ve experienced? And when did age decide how much we hurt inside?
“Don’t throw the you’re too young card. Come on. You can do better than that. No? Then shut it.”