i don't even make noises any more.
(i've learned to cry in silence for too long now)
i don't know the definition of confusion.
lack of certainty?
(but confusion is all i've been knowing, so wouldn't normality really be lack of certainty=confusion?)
i hate the way things happen.
maybe i should stop working for a goal.
maybe i should stop making them.
my time keeps on getting stolen.
i figure out new ways of lovely, lovely life.
then things return back to the way they would have been.
and i have no idea how to do what.
i always am prepared for the wrong thing.
i expected the end.
i get the beginning of my wishes.
i stumbled upon happiness.
they snatch it back.
(i always thought if i didn't believe in love, it might come to me. i guess this mean that i'll find love. they will want someone else.)
i shouldn't wish
but i've already started making plans to adapt.
[they will be broken after i have accepted them/life.]