Couple minutes ago I just found a box of my clothes from Bandung. Just a couple of shirts and tee... and one of Red's white shirt slips on there. Then suddenly I burst into tears and once again, I cried. It's just so sad how I used to wore all these clothes in my favorite city. There's a sweater I wore when I was holding Red's hand, a plaid shirt I wore when I spent a lazy weekend cuddling up, shirt I wore when we go to Church for weekly ceremonies and so many more.
It's crazy how old good memories, even some clothes, could kill you. I am so dying right now. But there's a pain and anger I wanna share with that bitch, so maybe I'm kinda wanna give her a best Christmas present ever: a perfect crime for her death.
Well I really wish I could do that.
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