The Full Moon and All The Lost Flavors
Hello all stemian friends, good night wherever you are. May we always be in the protection of Allah and continue to carry out all activities well. Writing is a reliable way of pouring out all the imagination that is in the mind. So never be reluctant to convey useful messages through your wise writings. It's the same with me at this time, I want to pour all my imagination into a fictional story that is assembled by myself to be reading material that can be of interest to all stemian friends.
Seriously, the singing of crickets makes me feel at home here for a long time, coupled with the charm of the fireflies dancing behind the drooping eyelids.
My eyes were stunned to see the moon that seemed to be trying to give a gentle caress to the fallen soul. There is a desire to scream at the lonely night to throw all the burdens that exist. Everything became heavy and concentrated on my crown. Actually, I can't stand all the pain that confiscates the wound. It's as if everything gives a special burden to the heart-strengthening ritual.
What is this? Why is everything so complicated? What should I keep to myself, why has it become a boomerang for myself. This is unfair and can't happen, I don't let other people play a role in all the stories I write myself.
The dark night with the moonlight as a lamp that faithfully accompanies me. I put all my complaints there. This is my way of finding peace, without having to say a word that makes my eardrums feel noisy. I don't like human chatter when my heart wants to be alone. Solitude is also silent is my reliable way to calm the heart.
Sad, lonely, and crying over all stories is a hobby that I really enjoy doing when my heart is sad. I don't need anyone. What I want is just to get rid of the sadness that is increasingly consuming the heart to feel happy.
With all the stories that I have experienced, this has become the best teacher so that I am not easily fragile in everything that I will experience in the future.
He began to pour all the ravings in all his regrets. He seemed to complain on a cold night with a ray of moonlight that became the lamp that lit up that night. Without realizing it, the night was getting late. He began to realize that the night had passed quickly and then he got up and left the place.
That's the short story that surrounds my head. And now I have poured it swiftly in the writing that I serve to all my stemian friends. Hopefully this article will be a lullaby that will anesthetize you in a beautiful night's sleep. Warm greetings from me, happy reading all stemian friends. Hopefully in the future I can create more interesting writings with the support of all my friends.