“When are you coming back?”
In truth, dear? I don’t know. This imaginary world is bliss, I don’t know if I’ll ever get myself to go back, ever. The real world is so difficult, so complicated, so taxing, so miserable, so intense.
If there’s nothing else, I’m going back to sleep now.
death by guilt
About
Ramblings of an imaginary friend.
[Maki Bajit. UP student with no direction, pretending to study Business Administration and Accountancy.
Frustrated jazz performer.
Frustrated hopeless romantic ewan.
Frustrated garapata.
16 forever. Humor me.]
Me, Elsewhere
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