2st Post, 2011

  "I had gave up my dream, so now I have nothing."
  That's what had said longtime ago. And today, something reminds me of this.
  This is an ancient story, longtime ago, there’s a stupid man named Icarus, who worships the sun, he use the wings made ​​with wax, to fly overhead to chase the sun. The result is Icarus’s wings melted by the sun with anger.

  My "wings" in the end ... ... just a pair of fake wings which made wax paste?

  My "wings" had melted before. It's hurt, but I never tell anyone.

  Because I believe, one day, I will be able to escape from hell with my own real "wings".

  I thought I had escaped, but is it true?or just my imagination?