As we’re sitting on the rooftop-with the darkness plummeting over us and with the endless sea of stars above, these words suddenly came out from her lips;

“I am terrified.”

“Of what?”

“Of the way you can make me feel.”

“Come on. Look at me. Tell–”

“No. You don’t understand. I can’t even straightly look at you without feeling this hammer inside my chest. And it’s not good. I want to make the carpenters stop-I want to make them stop hammering my heart. If I let them, they’ll surely add up some nails, and nails will cause nothing but bleeding. And what comes after the endless crimson flowing? It’s pain-excruciating pain.

I tried saying that maybe this time, I should give this a try. That maybe those deadly beatings in my heart can save me-save me from the pit black hole I’m currently living in. But the sign ‘under construction’ ruled over. As I realized, you can’t fix me. The impossibility was like water-raining down on me. And for the first time in my life, the improbability of something makes me happy.

I have the carpenters inside my heart-and I’ll do anything to make them stop. I want them to stop.

And she walked away without even listening-without even realizing that those carpenters are also doing the work inside my heart but on the contrary-I don’t want them to stop. I will never make them stop


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