I am not sure what brought me to this point. And my initial idea was just just listen to some good music, and to relax a little, a clean glass cup, and a brand new bottle of wine that seemed to have laid it all out for me. But inevitably, and as it always seems to happen, you dare to show up in my thoughts, interrupting my plans with your fake smile, then so I have to ask, how does he feel?

Tell me, how does it feel to have filled a man's heart with such powerful illusions, just so that you can just turn around and fade away? Explain to me how exactly one goes on living a joyful life? While devastating another one? When did someone's pain became another one's joy? Tell me, how does it feel? How does it really feel to command the remains of my dreams at will?
 Without having the intentions to plant any seed?

 How does one truly get to forget and to not feel so easily so cold? He could have served to have figure some of your ideas out. But I truly do not think that we're in the way none whatsoever. And so that's what I would like to ask him, how does he feel? Listen? How does it feel to pretend to be interested to then simply sweep the beatings of a distant heart under a rug?

I am unable to decipher what could possibly lead a mind to such an emotional amnesia. I was simply wondering what can go to a person's heart that he's able to speak in one way, only to turn around and then behave irrationally cold? How does that truly feel? Consider yourself alone one day Think about all these things, without the possibility to really meant them. Without the possibility of being happy. Could you answer how does it feel to build a heart by breaking another one? And you truly stand in front of your moral and spiritual convictions to see that the greatest pain you could possibly bear to someone in this world is to turn around in carelessness, right when you were really needed the most?

How does one truly face oneself in the mirror upon that reflection upon that truth? Tell me? How does that really feel? I don't care about dreams anymore. I have felt my heart turn to stone. And you should know that I have reached the pinnacle of not giving a damn to anything as a result of your absence. My scars are no longer blue. My heart beats differently. I have no longer allowed myself to wander into the fulfilling glares of opportunity thanks to the rejection stab wound that you decided to inflict upon me.

 I walked randomly into the life full of many what ifs, and with nothing to really show for man. All I really wanted to know was to listen to some good music with a fine cup of wine, but your uninvited pressing crashed all that. And now I feel as if I have to need to speak about something that has no merit. Someone who no longer bears importance in my life. Someone I do not really want to think about—you!

How does that feel?