people usually love to write about their real-life journey.
how they went upside down on pursuing the dream that they create.
It was exciting because it was real.
but for me?
I don't have any.
there was no real.
only some imaginary things that I created since then.
I wrote.
then I kept.
Keep writing till now.
but too afraid to show them.
let me be overwhelmed for myself.
Somehow, I thought I always lived in my own world that no one can imagine that I have one.
and you can have to.