It's been 27 years. Yes, I'm 27 years old. Working, earning money. Money, that matters the most, money, that controls the world. I should be happy, shouldn't I be?
But happiness is lost somewhere in this chaotic concrete jungle, somewhere in this crowd of unknown faces, somewhere in this world full selfish people. The torture starts from morning and keeps multiplying till I reach home after the work. I'm afraid I'm gonna drown someday, there's fear, there's sadness, sadness that when I reach home, I've nothing to be happy about, no one to miss, no one to love. I hate coming back to my empty house, tired, exhausted and down. I don't like being a office either. It feels like there's a empty space between the office hours and coming back home which I like the most. I want to stay there where I don't have to think about the restrains that society imposes on me. It's the space where I'm naked and I'm not afraid to let someone see my vulnerability, my emotions, my feeling that I've burried deep down within my soul. Yes, I want someone to see my soul and know how alone and stranded I'm and have no where to go.
I want to stay there, not alone, at least not in that space that my own mind has created.
It's my space where I want to be happy, it's my space where I want someone to love me, hold me, hug me, kiss me and say that I'm the only one good thing ever happened in her life, I'm the only good thing she afraid to loose, I'm the only one good thing she can't live without, I'm the only one thing that makes her happy, makes her smile. What I'm longing about is a selfish Love from selfish people. Yes, I'm 27 years old and still dreaming like a child.