Don’t you wonder why everything runs in a cirlce - from chilly dawns, to scorching noons, dying sunsets to starry nights; why some wake up to a brand new day, while others expect the same, if not worse.

I cringe at my weakness. I cringe at the stuggle every morning, to get out of bed, and have some faith in the day. I cringe at giving in to temporary comfot, to temporary relift, to temporary numbness, at the fact that I possess no strength to fight anymore. Thinking that forgetting about him and letting go would make everything better was a mistake. He might have been a factor, a trigger, a pointing finger in the direction for this path I’ve chosen, but to my disbelief, he’s not the key to the chain on the door.

Reminisces of those would normally take place on a sunday morning, with mists of a hangover and endless circling thoughts in my head. But it’s Monday today. So much for a brand new start to a brand new year, guess I should’ve known better. I feared this, of tumbling back into another viscious cyle, of feeling the same helplessness again. No matter how hard I try, how many times I reassure myself the night before that ‘I can do this’, my worst fear would always come around in the morning and laugh at me. I have become the laughing stock of my mind; my life has become a joke.

Drapetomania - an overwhelming urge to run away.
That’s me, a drapetomaniac.
Having a constant urge to flee from my problems, my loved ones, from home, school, work, from everything good, everything bad, the beautiful, the ugly, the truths and the lies.

I never thought I would end up possessing such a great extent of negativity in my head. For as long as I can remember back, I was an optimist. I laughed at the stupidest jokes, got excited over the littlest things, I always tried my best, strove for perfection, the glass was always half full, life was green and beautiful, love was an amazing thing.

When everything got taken away, when the truth surfaced, I realised everything was just a lie. I was an abandoned and unwanted child, or in the way they put it, I was ‘too much to handle’. Childhood is the time for the shaping and moulding of one’s soul. I’m sorry to hear that you were too ‘busy’ to do that, even more sorry to hear that you thought you could just get away with it. Did it really struck you that you could just come back into my life whenever you wanted, did it struck you that perhaps you would be unwanted by then?

From you, I learnt respect and independence, though I highly doubt that was meant to be the backbone of your teaching. What happened to happiness, to trust, to love? Isn’t that part of your duty, to show me the joys of human existance, the point of living, the beauty of life? You are meant to be guide me, shining the light in the right direction, yet for whatever unspeakable reason, I never found the burning flame of your torch.

That is why I am the way I am today.