A Journal by Clara S

Those old photos start to losing its colours Your picture and name on your favorite mug fades away because it has been washed too often now. Your favorite sweaters are being given away, your clothes are nowhere to be found. Those shoes also start to mold. And your cold bed is now so rusty and dusty. One by one people who remember your name and story will eventually die. Your trace in every place became nonexistant and indifferent. Your posessions become nothing but trash. Our chat on every social media become a memory, Which I read every time I miss us Human is no bigger than a stardust in the middle of the universe; Their life is so fragile like the fire on a candle. Just one blow and its light could be no more. Jogja, 09.01.2021

 She's not feeling okay and she don't know why tried to ask the sea and sky but they just run away and fly and for that, she'll cry yet her tears are dry no matter how hard she tries so then she endeavors to look happy  yet her laugh is wry And still, no one can identify, Sadness in her eye She better not defy that maybe she better die on the summer of July and no one shall comply Finally could she eventually cry Jogja, 05.01.2021

We talk, we speak and we feel that we can click but the bitter truth has kicked; it's not the only thing I seek I'm sorry cause I decided things too quick when I was happy and feel like on peak but then things turn out to be freak and it feels like I've played tricks all these things may make you sick cause I've made you feel like only a side gig from now on you can call me a prick and others may call me weak for I am giving up too quick Jogja, 05.01.2021