Lost.

Rare evening spent today.

Finished the remaining of Murakami Haruki's "After Dark" in one breath. Felt so nostalgic after that. Took out BBF's scrapbook she made for me when I came over. Looked at the photos taken over the years. There was youth in our faces, our smiles, our eyes. Everything felt so simple; a smile stayed a smile, tears meant sorrow. Now, a smile hides sadness, it hides secrets. The youth has disappeared from our faces. What's been replaced are weatheredness, experience, cynicism. Time's the culprit.

I miss every little thing. Wished things could be simple as before. Why do we always have to go make things so complicated?

Don't look at me with those cold eyes. What happened to the passion that was once there?

Wish I could cut away at your icy exterior you've placed there for protection. Protection from.. the world, from the hurt, from the things you don't want to know.

Everything feels unreal now.

Oh Innocence, you've been sorely missed.