A low voice, a phone call, it distraught me so much that for some reason I knew where he lives. So I ran there with all I could, out of breath.
Then I reached his place. I know of his silver hair, I know his silhouette, but I don't know him, I can picture his head down, looking down at me from the other side of the door.
I banged the door, but he refused to open.
"I'm disappointed," he repeated.
"How could you let everyone down," he continued, forcing me to think of everyone involved in my life schemes, those that I gave up on. Those that I procrastinate to do.
"Show me yourself," I screamed internally.
As if I don't deserve to see him, he went silent.
I couldn't, until today, I couldn't get that disappointed head out of my mind. Is my consciousness seeping into my fantasy? I don't want to carry on, but who is he to be disappointed in me? What's his right?
The angrier I am, the lower I felt.
Because he was right.
I am running away, and I'm trying to justify it. But this burden that I'm disappointing everyone will be with me forever.
Who will trust me again?
I want to see his face.
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