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  • It’s a breakage of not my heart, but of a delicate encase that I have formed during the years of my childhood and adolescence. This sheath was synthesized from dreams. Formulated by a mere youthful pedestrian glancing through spectacles and walking through the steering of others, this fragile belief I possess was thin, hallow, and superficial. The only way to build something stronger and sturdier, pure and authentic was to break down the old. It is not easy, though.
    I am in time period where my old beliefs are crumbling down to the ground, and I am left stranded with nothing around me. Nothing is inside of me. While the walls of false dreams and hopes are tumbling down, my heart and soul are searching for the truth. My own concrete truth. Until I do, I am left empty and without something to hold on to. This time period, I must urge is fucking painful. I feel hopeless and lost and my heart is beating blindly without a cause.

    But somewhere in my twisted thoughts, I know that Rome was not built in a day. Gold is not pure without fire. Love is not strong without the sacrifices.
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