So, I’m relishing my 1-week summer vacation─ no, just vacation. And I’m going to spend this entire week with myself, of course, dad’s working and mom as well. No daytrips and no volleyball games, because my church friends were all busy with their own lives.
Apparently, I’m alone. Yes. ALONE.
Yet, I love being alone. Perhaps few of you feels the same way I feel, but being alone for me, means freedom, freedom to do whatever I want; being alone, at some point means being fearless. Being alone means being you; it is when you can openly unmask your whole self, because you’re not afraid and it is when you can scream aloud, feel sad and cry, and feel happy; it depends on what you feel.
But being alone in our house is different. I mean, the atmosphere is different. I didn’t know what exactly bothers me, like something deep inside is going to burst.
As I watched the living room, I have seen imaginary individuals, and happenings. All of a sudden, I remembered memories, memories that changed and ruined our lives. I remembered choices, choices that made this life a disaster. I have seen people, people whom I assumed would always be there whenever I needed them.
That thursday night, I tried to talk to the Man up there, seeking comfort; because I could no longer help myself thinking about all these. I want to embrace Him so tight, to follow His steps─ to be with Him. I want to die. No, I didn’t say that for you to pity me nor to think about the possible options I could do. I did say that because that’s what I felt. I know, it’s hard. It’s like I’m always sinking and drowning. And it’s sad.
If you’re one of those people whom I shared my problems with, thank you. Thank you for lending me your ears, thank you for the short-term relief, for making me glad and for accompanying me. I appreciate your presence, your words, and your care, and your help.
I will try my best to fight and to always look at the bright side of everything.