I know I heard somewhere memories are lonely things. The moment I hear the first strums of the guitar feelings of melancholy and glee floods inside my chest. It makes me close my eyes, breathe, and when I open them, they are brimmed with tears.

I remember the time when I didn’t feel exactly the way I wanted to be. Things didn’t turn out the way I wished. So much hate and people hating.

Words. Messenger. Sand. Codes. The time of my life.

She must be wondering what I am being kind for. All I really wanted was to get noticed. And that is all there is to my harsh words.