The journey of life is like a book. Some shredded pages, ones symbolising letters of love and the others revolving around the complexities of one's existence.
Hell yes,
some chapters are gonna make you want to scream into your pillow, some will make you yearn endearment, some are going to make your eyes swell up with tears, and some, making you wish you could live moments intimately, in full again.
Every page told a tale of its own, a few melancholic and others of comfort.
Some of them existed to remind us of who we've grown to be and others of how we wished we could hold on to the glory of our past selves.
Moments, inked in our souls with the blood running through our veins, of love and leisure, a bit about angst, anger and anxiousness, but most about the flaws we held under our secure skin. Some in the memory of faded scars, in hope of finding the hues to revive our monochromatic hearts.
