Sometimes
I don\'t know if am cynic, or a believer.
Sometimes I believe, believe that it happens for a reason. Sometimes I just don\'t believe in anything or anyone.
I don\'t know if am a lover or a hater.
Sometimes my heart feels so heavily for a stranger I find myself questioning my sanity. Other times I feel strongly against another I wonder if my humanity really exists.
I don\'t know if am a reader or a writer.
Sometimes I spend hours writing just to hate reading it. Sometimes i spend hours reading and I like it.
Sometimes I love the music I have in my phone, other times it drives me so crazy I just shut it off and listen to the silence.
Sometimes am happy, other times am sad. Sometimes am a lover, other times, just a hater. Sometimes I believe, other times I see that belief as torture. Sometimes I know myself, and other times I am a stranger even to myself