I have proven that I am imperfect, weak and fragile. No matter how hard I try to control my life, it is I who lose my own battle. It is because I don’t own my life. I am only a steward and an heir but not the creator nor the owner of such benediction.

I am imperfect and I do succumb to my illogical flaws and bask in its sinful vanity to which I solely rot and wither. I am weak for I cannot fight it. I am fragile for I am easily hurt by my own setbacks and by this world’s greed.

When will I find the right to guy to love me, not out of lust nor foolishness nor compliance..?

And yet a man came and wishes to win my love yet his eyes tell he is not true.. Oh how can I tell him that I wonder if his passion is the purest of all hue..?