the soundtrack from house of cubes.

it's liberating to know what i have written here isn't being read,though there's a chance of it being read anyways.

but.no buts.

it isn't liberating,it's more like.
i have terrible use of english.

difficult to put into words.
though the emotions that tell me that they want to be written here whisper loudly.
but i don't have much emotions.
so it's more of thoughts processed and stored,frustrated and being put into pending.

i don't need to tell anyone about it,right?
i mean,it's good enough to know my own thinking,rather than telling it to someone, and he/she has a different perspective,and in turn affects the relationship.

i can't share whats in my head,my heart,my soul.
i can't cos i don't know how to,don't know whether i want to,and know that no one wants to.

so i decided from young,i'd be listening.
listening to the words whispered,shouted,spoken,screamed,cried,laughed.
listened to the words etched on the webs of the internet.
listened to alphabets on the messages people send.
listened to the words oozing out from body languages.
from their eyes,their hands,their hugs,their lips,their everything.
i listened,learned.
and over the time,i realised,i actually like it.
very much.
it's like a one-sided window with the mirror facing the confesser,if that is even a word.
and i'm just listening.spectating.

and it gets irritating when people wanna listen to me instead.
i have nothing to say.zilch.

nothing at all.