Somethings are better left unsaid.

Some moments are better locked in oneself than shared. If these are the rules, then let rebelling be our new favorite costume.

We don't accept half painted canvas, do we?

Hidden parts are usually deemed unlovely and unacceptable, mysterious is unlikeable but why? Why do some find it offending if you don't share all your stories?

Curiosity-driven they dig for more, awe-struck needing to be more close, as if love can't breathe when you don't know the person fully.

Is there anything as knowing the person fully? I honestly don't think so. And I honestly don't think it's ugly.

It doesn't work like that.. for me at least. I care enough, but there are things that I can't share. Is that bad? Does that make one un-worthy?

Don't think so. Won't think so.

Some moments aren't to be typewritten and read by everyone over the afternoon-coffee. They lose their meaning when overtold, their beauty wilts when exposed to too much eyes.

So here's a tip:

Don't squint your eyes trying to undress secrets, because sometimes there's nothing hideous hidden. Words can't just touch the glory of a moment and so we lock it away and go on, 'cause why rub off it's beauty, you know? 

Because sometimes, memories wrapped up in one's heart is better off stepped upon by people-knowingness-about it.

Suspended in its assigned time is ways more dazzling than landing, don't you think?

Not making any sense,

A n o n y m o u s.