Not that what I've wrote are lies.
It was all true, but was it honest?
Honesty takes courage
like how being naked takes courage.
But to strip those layers of covers off to put away the burden and to let other people see the amount of covers that you had stripped
isn't the same with that courageous act
of letting yourself to be honest without any covers.
Like what some few men and women did, before me.
And those who surrounded me who are honest
and I, lacking of some sort of bravery, to embrace them
And let them fell apart in the process.
Maybe I just
didn't love enough.
Because not loving enough is an act of cowardice
not loving enough are those who'll regret
And I, like them, regretted enough
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