I lied most of the time. About my feelings to anyone. I sometime putting myself into a fake story just to make myself calm. Like how great I deal with my problems but frankly, I just run. The shame of other people knowing about the truth makes the whole tiny bit became regular big shit. It's like you let your enemies pulling gun onto your forehead.
Good stories are more like an appealing fantasy to make others flown. Nothing about stupid unicorns but all of 'em has a perfect ending. I wish to conquer the dot but somehow on uncertain decisions make me lost even more. Till I heard to this,
"you're a good actress but too bad you're a big mess that must've gone
through quite rough times. and i'm looking forward to read some more"
A total junk could also be a harmless pearl for me. But I think most of the thoughts are true, I should gather myself around with the others (messers) and share the truth. This time, I don't have to put on makeups to cover all the bruises that I've been keeping for so long anymore.