It feels like awaiting for a death sentence, you live your last days as if they meant something while in the end you just know you are going to be executed by the end of the week. And there is nothing you can do to fix it. Recovering from Love has never been your thing and you wanted to believe that this time was different cause you never really knew him for real, before he erased you and became all totally indifferent to you, your voice, your body, your feelings. Nothing of what you do can possibly touch him. And there is nothing you can do. You live your final act and wait for your sentence to death to arrive. You will pretend he was never there, that your sick mind imagined it all, that you never wanted to kiss him, yesterday in the City, which merciful enough gave you two the best experience it could. London, that, through his eyes had yet another meaning. All sorts of questions, why are you never enough? What was your fatal error that changed all he saw in you in what seems t...
You can be every little thing you want nobody to know. Maledizione.