“I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.” — Pablo Neruda
at the end of the day I'd always think of my baby~
when we touch I'd felt a rush
Leongwei
is
that called love?
not appreciated....
I've got a bad feeling bout this....
It seemed so real=(
At the end of the day I'd always think of you....
your voice....
There probably isn’t any meaning in life. Perhaps you can find something interesting to do while you are alive. Like how I found you