it doesn't mean i'm less happy than she is. it's just that my story is currently still partially shrouded in secrecy. but why do i look at her photos and envy her?

there are times when i know i think too much, bothering myself with stupid questions of the past that has gone by, and the future which no one can tell. there are times when i just want to hear the simple words and feel the world in my pocket.

there are times when i feel like blogging, but even i don't know what i'm talking about.