It feels like an echo of hundred lifetimes ago, that she almost failed to reminisce the last time another soul looking through her and tell her that her mind is brilliant; that it's her warmth that captivates the most
And for what it's worth, she knows better what it felt like to be seen for all that she is and to be embraced for all that she isn't; that she was never a quiet drizzle but the storm that brings wreckage yet, she was understood and accepted
//
[ The Echo from The Past ]
These days she never heard those words coming back to her bet they won't even bother noticing what her eye color was was it deep jet black? was it brown with a little hint of hazel? since they were too busy staring at her curvy waist that everything else becomes blur and dull
Sometimes when the day feels longer than the night, and her cheeks started to weary of carrying her grin she would contemplate of how good it must have felt to have a comforting silence that worth thousand of words where she could rest her overwhelmed thoughts for a while yet, somehow the void that creeps inside her chest is filled
i wish one day, someone would see through her again to see that she is more than just a skeleton made of bones and muscles; she is a skeleton made of thoughts