My imaginary mirror

Because we see what we want to see. And that's why we laugh over a terrible haircut, scream over an imaginary faceless ghost (eww), create stories about MJ's mysterious death, think about the worst outcome and make ourselves so worry that we couldn't breath, appear offline to give her a boo, keep on delaying and delaying and thought time wouldn't flow because of that.



Yellow, I am still alive too. Good. In some kind of imaginary world that would make people jealous but I can still feel the pain.





Imagine that I am writing my blog, keeping everyone updated and be there when you call my name. This is not real, if you read this, it's either you are crazy or I am. But I prefer the first guess, like how I imagine a monster (boo) who ate up my things when I couldn't find them.