Whatever you fucking want.

World...what is the meaning of this brilliant and round word? Is it a place measured by kings and queens or, simply, by regular people? Maybe it's both, maybe it's none. I wonder what people think when I smile, when I giggle, When I cry...maybe nothing. Why? Because no one ever sees me crying. Maybe because there's no reason for my tears to be dropped. I'm happy. I wasn't before, though. I was living in the deepest darkness there can ever be. My tears felt like blood dropping. It was unknown for me, the feeling wasn't correct. I was obnoxious to most people, especially, to myself. I thought that was the supposed living, but no. That's not living, that's existing. The existance of a Human Being is real. The survivability and living of it's own, which can be considered a masterpiece, is a dream. Sometimes, it can and will be a furious nightmare. A blank page on the search of color, but all you find is deep and closer darkness. Isn't it ironic that you meet the most fantastic and great people and some that achieve 'almost' perfection, but are always the ones that live distantly? Yes, distance is a masochist whore.