#210.
I hate that I learned that song so that I could play it for you. I hate that I took forever to learn that bloody song just because it was your favourite. And I hate myself for being so weak, weak to the point that every time I play that song, I see the sheet music, or hear a melody that sounds similar, I feel grief. I feel grief that it had just stopped all so suddenly. It's a good song. I guess. It's just I hate all the memories attached and related to it. Sorry I never got to play it to you.


Pretty reckless. Petty recklessness. Pretty recklessness. It makes sense. Think about it.

Hello, this is Tien. This blog is the remains of the unconventional cliches and angsty phrases of my teenage years. (Plus a new one every now and then)
I ♥ Phoenix, (500) days of summer, double entendres, unmade beds, autumn, Chopin, syncopated melodies, G7 chords and things that make me feel.

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