fall, autumn, wind. 

there's something poetic about a wounded child who's not been healed, eventhough they're trying their best to be okay. the wounds are my words, and the scars are my stories. 

my last name is Rey, feel free to call me that. my ray of sunlight in life is pretending to be busy, so that i cannot hear the voices inside of me. i fell apart, when September came. i lost myself and my other half, on a random September day.