I know everything about you.. But what can I do..I can't be you.

Who would have listened to his tales of woe when his love was the flickering lamp over his own decaying tomb?

Love, he told himself, was open to interpretation like any other abstract indulgence but followed the same principles everywhere, irrespective of everything else. One, either won or lost in love, there was no bridge in between, and he decided he had lost, lost to himself, if not to her.

why can't you understand that i am darkness and you are night, so it doesen't matter that we are not together, because without one the another is always incomplete.

you don't love the way i love you, even, i love the way how you hate me.

Sundays are my biggest enemies because it technically makes me remind of someone i missed from my life, i hate Sundays..