The mist outside the window tells me the new story of the morning and the brewing coffee in kitchen is inviting. I wanted to cuddle more with my pillow, but it seems that the time is rushing me up to wash all thoughts left from the bad dream I've had during the night.

Today, I am going to stretch out my thoughts and be eager. For the coming days, I have to suck the fact that I am not doing what I love to do, ain't got any choice. The past scenes were nerve-wracking, the episodes were all traumatic. Yet I have succumb to the idea that everything will just be fine- just think it will be.

Crossing my fingers, praying. My mind is out there, trying to take a peek and trying to grasp the plethora of the so-called inhibitions of the soul. How can this be? Why?

I'm missing it, I am missing him. But does he missed me too?


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