White lies.

Staring at the ceiling fan blankly.
Thinking.
Thinking.
Thinking.

Thinking.

I saw you few days back, at a camera shop.

When I thought I've thrown out every single thing that has you init. Probably somebody forgot to empty the Recycle Bin in my brain. I saw you, and it was as if every trash was restored back to it's folder.

And everything starts coming back to me.
Day 1 to 700 whatever day.

So now tell me, how do you expect me to not have all this rage.

Frankly, I'm tired. Tired of being angry. Tired of being sad. Tired of being unhappy.
I deserve to be happy.