Welcome home

Expectation kills.
Always. I forgot about that. And I'm dying right now.

High expectation always ends up in a deep desperation and in a huge disappointment.

And in disappointment, my silence lays.
It's the best way I can do since I know, before disappointment, there are another disappointments.
So, in a moment like this, I choose to keep silent and it doesn't mean I don't want to share what I truly feel. It's just that I'm afraid, how if I let somebody down before? If so, then I deserve to be in this kind of desperation. And yes, I let every body down before. Then, here I am.

I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don't know where it goes

But it's home to me and I walk alone

Deserted Night

I guess it’s a romantic night I adore. Even though I spend this night alone writing a draft of a handbook, and also typing useless words like this.

It comes in sudden while I’m writing the first page of my book. I hear music from afar, not so clear but it’s ok for my ear. A great sound combined with the sound of my finger dancing above the keyboards and my rainy noose and the clock and the vague sounds of people talking in a food truck behind my house and a silence in my head enjoying this night. I think I start crying. No, not because I’m sad, I just want to cry. The same cry when I saw an adorable city night. It’s truly an adorable night. Even though I’m so sleepy and my heart beats so fast under the effect of the caffeine I drink during the coffee break and a feeling like my head is floating.

No, I’m not doing contemplation or blabbering about how funny my recent life is. I’m just enjoying my deserted night.