during nights like tonight I cannot stay at my place, must find an excuse to go out.
    little sister wrote about her headache. hated this time of the day. felt like she wanted to die.
    I have that feeling too. around four to six p.m. these days, the night comes quickly.
    one friend said, ‘do not come to my city these days, the grieving sadness of the sky makes people depressed.
    I wanted to say, ‘would your city be more melancholic than mine?’
    I always pick up my walking steps, sometimes slightly scared of the people around.
    the glances colored grey, oppressed, like the reality between them and me. the distance between us.
    our hearts do not seem to bear any resemblance.
    I am loyal to someone, devote my admiration to only him, do not want to look at anybody else, do not want to think of anyone else.
    yet do not love him.
    do not feel comfortable unfolding my heart to him. do not really trust him.
    since my first breath, I cannot fully trust others, perhaps as much as ninety-nine percent.
    due to the remaining one percent, never have I ever been able to love a person.
    the first glimpse of love already comes with the guilt of betrayal.
    because of one percent.
    I meet a friend, laugh, talk, and have dinner.
    before ordering food I already imagine its flavor in my mouth.
    suddenly just want to close my eyes
    forget about all of this.
    perhaps, after six p.m.,
    when darkness emerges,
    I will be slightly more cheerful.
    collect some happiness, some hope,
    no need for anything extravagant,
    bringing me from one moment to the next safely.
    because of a little of the unnamed things,
    because of one percent that has not been given,
    I have many times saved myself from
    the wheels that move so fast.
    the every day that passes by so fast.
    only my despair,
    so slow