• alee_xandra 53w


    It is almost like a dream, those days when you wake up and look back at your life. It seems that someone else has written your story and you're reading the novel, instead of having actually lived it. There is beauty in memory, and value in rememberance. There is pain in reliving, and torture in the past. There is madness in memories, something surreal we lock away from the surfacing thoughts.