Something keeps reminding me that I have been fragile. I’m needing something to depend on even to pour my feelings out. Damn. I never thought I’d, some day, be this parasitic. I wish I was an open space than to be this bad. This fragile. This dependable. OOO I am losing my senses: my grip to hold myself and my courage to fight the war but this was something I didn’t choose and its not my fault, really. May be, I’d already be an old enough, not to be this way too. And tomorrow when I get little older, I may laugh about the way I feel these things but for now, I don’t mind until I don’t find something to depend on, again.