Eccedentesiast.

Failures pushed her. She saw no hope. It wasn’t a great day; but like most of the days she felt what nobody ever understood. ‘Building special memories?’, she thought was just a misnomer. The urge to scream ended up with nail marks on her hand. The clutter she had built ended up with blood on…

Yes, it’s the “I-have-come-back” type.

Getting back to wordpress is so difficult but I really wanna get back. I never wanted to start with this “I-have-come-back” post, but, I have no post in mind, rather I should say I just don’t know how to write and what to write first. Many of you reading this might wonder where I was…