May, Hug Me

“Don’t come back. You don’t miss home, right?”
“Ya, nope. I know it would be good if I stayed here.”
“Still don’t hate us. I hope you know that either.”
“I know. Don’t worried about us too.”

I never guess that neither hate nor worried each other makes us being stranger.

I went to somewhere. Found chicken soup. At least, that was warm enough for me, for my heart. Dinning room was like mountain, cold. I sat and looked all of thing in front of me. I was waiting the door being opened. But just heard chink of time. As always I went to home and slept. Hope there was no tomorrow. But what will happen in the next day? Because I woke up in the morning, I had to live.

Hearing broken plate or glass or vase or mirror was not awkward moments. I still continued played dolls or read some magazines. I did my homework too or watched TV with highest sound. And sometimes I was so calm at noisy place. Because I woke up in the next morning, I had to live.

The one said that blue is the best, and the other said that red is better than blue. Why they made some easy thing to be hardest part? I ever told that not to have favorite color, that not to limit themselves to the one thing until did not get to see the beauty of another color. Why they made the most they used to like just being cause of separation? Anyway, because I woke up in the next morning, I had to live.