Needles



Lately, going home feels like a thousand of piercing needles going through my head, forcing me to bow my head low and weep. I cannot for the sake of my own life, figure it out why.

I would sit on the taxi, on the plane, on the bus, on the train, trying to keep my eyes dry.

I never was the crying type. When I was little, I only cried when I was mad. I was never this sad before.

Am I mellowed out? Was home really that unbearable now?

I want to shout out all these sadness away.

Picture was borrowed from here.

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