Sometimes I think if myself as transparent, in both sense of it-- mister cellophane and an open book. Yet I am often proven wrong. And most disappointingly, you prove me wrong again. Of all people, I am sure you would be able to tell the difference between hiding and indifference. You would know I hide because I am weak and do not have the strength to do it. But I guess I was wrong. Just like how I naively imagined that there were angels that would convey your heart to those that mattered; they just do not exist!
At dusk, what greets me will just be the four walls and their echo, and the phantom cat that has yet to arrive.
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