as i walk through this valley of this life, i realize so many things. but i change almost nothing. my past are my past, but i'm hoping that my present can be my future. it's a shabby work of mine, decorating the canvas of my life with the end of the brushes, hoping i could ever paint the best masterpieces of all but damn i ain't capable of doing anything. i just splash the whole canvas with a big piece of reality and a small portion of dream. i couldn't do more, or i'll end up soaking my canvas with red blood and painful tears. as i watch all of my dreams being shattered one by one, minisculed by the one who thought that the world really evolve around them,
all i could ever want is another canvas to be paint on.
another canvas, dear god.
please.
