It's 03:39AM and I can't seem to sleep. I partly blame the story I read. Recalling the emotions of the story makes me tear up. It's almost four and I'm crying. The smell of my shirt distracts me from my thoughts. Its smell reminds me of the hugs my friend gave me earlier. His smell still lingers.
Tangy.
With a mixture of my sweet perfume.
How sour.
I can hear the rooster croons for the sun and here I am typing away my thoughts--not helping me fall asleep.
I'm an idiot.
Once again, I remember the story I've read earlier--regretting I've read ahead and, once again, tearing up just remembering that heart breaking line... "It was fun".
I regret reading that story in the middle of the night and annoyed at myself because of my low EQ--too excited and expected a happy ending.
And this is where I end this entry.
Good night.
YOU ARE READING
The Mind and A Metaphor Heart
Non-FictionYou could say this is my personal diary Warning: Horrid grammar
