Death,the real end that no one knows. Everyone wants a happy ending. So we live each day hoping that everything we collect becomes legend,become a display on the glamarous glass.Its all the best we want,i want the best from me.But cant we live each day like its the last.Because we have hope,something mystical and pretty that people draw fantasies in.To those who lost it,someone insulates it and someone inject it into you once again,many mistaken it to be love,was it really? Could it be a coincidence,a chance merely? I suppose writing this my mind was blank.Somehow my fingers managed to move.Recollecting what i thought of 30 minutes ago.
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