Tell me the songs you listen to at 2 am in the morning. With your hair scraggly draping down your head, droopy eyelids going against your will to stay awake. Here's to the night when we do nothing but think of life, the absurdity in every implausible stories and realised that in reality, its senseless. Here's to the night when you cried for the boy who lift you up high, effortlessly putting you in between the stars only to let you fall, solely. Here's to the night you stare at your arms, the canvas in which you draw with a razor, trying to explicate your sorrows and pain. Here's to the night you lay naked on your bed, clutching his tshirt, seeking to feel his presence although you know, he's no longer there. Here's to the night you hate every existing being on earth, including yourself. 

 Here's to the night we felt nothing but alive, cruising down the streets with stereos blasting at the back of the Cadillac as laughters and every possible notion of excitements blend in with the wind.

Here's to you, for not being afraid to wake up in the morning and unknowingly faced your fears. 

Wipe your tears. 

If I see you, yes you. The one with pain written all over your wrist. 

I'll bring you over for tea. Tell me, what kind of songs do you listen to at 2 am in the morning.




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