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Money, something generally accepted as a medium of exchange, a measure of value, or a means of payment. Im living at this senescence messy fusty wallet all the times. Im just a printed colored paper that gives praise by the people. They cherish me, they value me, not the way they love other people. They blamed me, they criticize me, they accused me, that Iam the root of all evils. Anguish feeling always striking me. Im being crumpled, Im being messed, Im being used, and they always pass me through hand by hand, After what Ive done just to give them pleasure, and to make them the happiest man alive. Do I deserve this? Iam a blameworthy? Im just a piece of paper used by humans to satisfy their needs, to buy their wants, dont blame me because of your wrong accusation. They thought that Iam the root of all evils, no Iam not, Im just an instrument . Would somebody know my pain? That behind the smile and laugh I gave are the sadness and pain I feel. Would someone understand me, the way I wish since Ive been in this situation? Maybe there would be no one.
I was walking through my best friends room when suddenly I heard a familiar voice coming from there. “Imagine that, she really believed that I love her, the hell”. Those words made me weak. Pieces of my heart was scattered on the floor. My heart shred into the finest one. Yes! My so called boyfriend and my worthy bestfriend played with my heart. Tomorrow will be our first aniversary, do I need to be thankful for a great aniversary gift? How I wish that there will be a time machine to go back to the time when I dont have a bestfriend and Im not in love with boyfriend.