It's amazing how it feels being disoriented.
Doing bunches of things like some sorta workaholic,
but it turns out to make me realize,
"It's not me wanting all these stuffs...???"

Yes,
at first, it's like I jump to the pool of euphoria.
And my coriousity forces me to the top of my bravery.
Swim...swim...
I'm in high.
It provokes.

But the pool has made me feel so much cold.
Too cold to bear.
Too cold to even runaway.
Like all of my senses wear off.
I've left all behind.
Pages.
Fun.
Happines.
The most important,
them... who love me the most.

I miss every single things making me the way I am.
It's not worthy, I guess.
Tearing my unprofitable faith into pieces.
Trade them with just some profitable goodies..

It's just hard to go back.
To me I enjoy as me.