i've spent 16 years 6 months 22 days x hours y minutes z seconds worrying about making mistakes, trying to do the right thing, righting my wrongs, obsessing over what others think of me, being afraid of stares, hating the feeling of being ignored, trying to keep a balance, to keep the peace. i wish that i didn't care so damn much. i wish that i didn't feel so much. sometimes i wish that i have it in me to be as selfish as i want to, to just do my thing and everyone else has to deal with it, instead of always having to deal.
"I felt that night, on that stage, under that skull, incredibly close to everything in the universe, but also extremely alone. I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What's so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What's so great about feeling and dreaming?"
-Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
dear myself. things. they dont usually go your way. when you try it doesn't mean that you'd succeed. when you offer a hand it doesn't mean that it would be taken. what you understand may not be understood by all.
happiness comes in waves and ebbs. like finding out that the hostel mini-mart sells coke and pokka milk tea. sadness hangs like a rock around your neck. or clings like gladwrap. translucent coat of darkness and foreboding that settles upon your entirety, moulding itself to the vulnerable joint of your arm. curve of your neck. ridges of your ears. your eyes, tinting day night things people words grey.
unfortunately, i'm still here.
and yes it is. but that. it's all that i have.