Beautiful Mess

She would wake up every morning, worn out, feeling tired, had enough. Had enough. Had enough.

She lives in a 'today I managed to survive this cruel world somehow' way. She wants to give up and just leave but she can't run. Not with those shoes. With those feet. She's making her day with 'what the fucks' and stuffs. Excusing herself not to be with people.

She would decide recklessly. Sometimes, careful. She won't think twice. Sometimes, careless. She has dreams, but couldn't find her way. She needs herself. But couldn't find it as well. She wants to get rid of the people who's in her way. She's afraid of disappointments, but never of failure. She wants to fail in her own way, and teach herself in her own way. She needs help from some people, but mostly, from herself. She doesn't need someone to pick her up, but rather, she needs her to pick her up. She stays all night and would regret it in the morning. But not her precious imagination.

She's not looking for a man to fulfill her needs, rather, she needs to support herself and let life meet the one who's deserving. She eats a lot. A lot. So much that even her emotion eats unnecessary feelings as well. She likes stories. She's shallow but there's deepness at the same time. She writes, and sings, and then, she cries. Over nothing. Overthinking. When everything is over exhausting.