It's been a long time since the last time I talked to you. After all this time, I thought I knew you, but I don't. I'm sure time's changing and everybody's changing. But you're not the person I used to know. You grow into someone who isolates herself into a heart full of ink. If loneliness were a competition, you'll be the last to survive. But, I see that you've been smiling more somehow, although only to whom you think are worth to share a smile with. Back then, you used to care on what people said. You used to want to be them. You used to want to know them. You used to be hurt. Now, you don't even know how much pain you should take to be painful. You grow apart, you grow something in your heart; a demon,
a beautiful demon you've been trying to hide from everyone.