Half the year has passed. The days are getting repetitive. I will just bore you to death if I start talking about work. As I am always saying, work will always be work.

My regular posts here have shrunk into 140 characters via Twitter, became the moving pictures in Tumblr, and stored in the darkest places of my mind.

It had been a year since we had that peculiar understanding. I never thought that this wall would have an admirer. A blank wall. I met my wallflower.

I haven't really thought about "us" that much since everything was all-against-odds. The friendship was not perfect. We had different worlds, but when us alone, we had the best of our time. I would listen to her stories of the real world, of genuine pain, and of a lot of mistakes. Mistakes, the craft I perfected these years. I would listen to her music, to her desires, to her - opening me to the world. She would in turn, listen to my wit, of every golden thought, of the fires I thought would have been dowsed, and to the love I shared but was not kept. We could have been perfect for one another. If only love involved listening.

Every dance has got to end. The wall never danced anyone. The wallflower has got to leave and face the world because there will always be people waiting for her. I will always remember the stories shared by the girl who waited by the wall.