I have always believed that I was born in the wrong time. Nowadays, people give up so easily like they are not capable of fighting anymore. So they believe.
I don’t.
I’m the outcast. The black sheep. The strange one. I don’t actually care. That’s who I am and I like it that way.
In what do I believe? I believe in kindness. In second chances. In love. In fight. In new beginnings. In loyalty and kept promises. I believe in a better world. In effort. In truth. I believe there is goodness in people even when they do not believe it. I know what you must be thinking. She drank away too much wine! Dears, I assure you that I am really and sincerely sober right now.
Actually, that’s one of the reasons I left.
As mentioned before, writers do feel everything. Not at the same level as the others, though.They feel it double, no way, triple. Anyway, more. Much more. So much more. Okay. I will stop now. You got the idea. You did, right?
I was pretty happy with my life. So I used to think. One day, I realized that routine became my partner in crime and I forgot how to take care of my soul. You see, our soul defines us. Mine was tired. Fucking tired. I never hide my wounds. I am proud of my scars. Why? Because a scar is like a craving into one’s soul. Because from several scars something beautiful is created. Because that’s who I am, that’s how I learned that moments should be cherished as sometimes they’re all we got. Time passes by and the moments become memories.