miss brown.

it's late. but i can't sleep. i'm giving heartiest effort. i'm counting sheep.

reminiscing my old life.

what comes out of the reminder rack isn't always cool.
i wasn't so cool backward. i was so lame. and old. and sloppy. i did nothing but just mirroring those Chinese jumpsuit and my yellow banana pajama, which happened to be nothing in real life. miss brown- this is who i was. i was a brown old lady. who apparently hates sounds, musics, and hearing.

God.
i am lost.

i still don't know what i'm doing.

talk to me, you somebody.

and to whom should i tell the chronicles. my stories, yes they were just some rotting scratches. but they turned out to be better compared to my place, which i once considered as a home.

Allah.
   i think i know He knows me.
    i know He's listening to me.
i know He's looking after my future other half. and my family. and my friends. and my animals. and my health. and all of the craps which i once claimed as mine.
   i know He is the One who own me like no others do.
and how do i know this.
well, simple : He had let me know.