He grew up with traid
,grew up with what people thought as sinister,black-hearted creations,but it was his happiest time of life.He’s got a family,a place he called home, a home filled with love,a place he is protected.He was never so happy, untill one day,just simple one day, everything seem like a dream, everything’s gone,his sister died.
He found himself in a new place called Singapore. it was a city completely new to him.He was alone,with no shit at all, with this fucking emotion called emptiness.He was told he will be safe here. And one day,he’s got a new dad,a new family.It is a family thats so hard and cold,simply a shell for him to sleep in.He is still alone, so he give in to music, spenting most of his days with his beloved guitar,immersing in his musical world.He got betrayed, each day, and grew up more,each day,in this fucking new place.He changed,no one could understand him anymore,a stranger to his mom,she knows him no more,trust him no more,and it hurts him so bad,deep inside he is still the child she knows, but he let it be.
The boy, he was sad. He was lonely. Perhaps he was sad because he was lonely. Perhaps he was lonely because he was sad. For what reason, he did not know. He did not care.
He wasn’t always like that. He wasn’t always that lonely. He wasn’t always that sad. He had happy times, too. Joyous, gleeful, happy times. He had friends. Then, he fell apart.
His friends tried. They tried to fix him back up. They tried picking up all the loose parts and fitting them back into where they belong. They tried to put him back together. They tried.
They began leaving him. They took parts of him with them. Big parts, small parts. Everything. Soon, he was left with nothing. He was nothing.
He knew the problem; he couldn’t face it. He tried solving it with an alternative solution: alcohol. It worked too well.
He was sad. He was lonely. He jumped off to escape it all. He was happy. At last.