since when did those hands i held dearly to so that i would not lose my way become hands that cling onto mine, seek for directions?

sometimes it suppresses me so much that i would feel as if i can just sit at one spot and my soul gets pressed deep into and under my skin and i would be pressed down underground.

there's no point rushing. the words the people the memories that don't stay are probably just not impressionable enough... to think of it, only scars would persist. 

or probably, i've never really held those hands before...

ever since a long time ago