We’re taking a nice and comfortable trip where we both doesn’t know how, when, and where it’ll ends. You’re the driver and here I am really enjoying my position on the passenger seat.
The road is nice, the ride is great and I do love road trip.
But we should know where we want to end up then. I don’t know where; you’re the driver. Maybe you know.
It’s like hanging on a thin thread, all I do is waiting for myself to fall, which is hurt. I don’t know why am I still here, trying to hold on with the strongest grip. That thought of giving up, believe me, comes up everytime. “I must keep myself not to make another scar.” I told myself. This risk I have to take is too much compared by all the sacrifices I ‘ve made and the heartbreaks I’ve experienced. But I still standing here, not planning on making a single move. Still here, with the highest expectations that someday the luck will be on my side. Still here, trying to give the best I have. Still here, hoping that the conditions will eventually change. Still here, trying not to cry. Still here, standing tall, stay. Still here, trying to figure out the reason why.