I am obsessed in being whole for I am nothing more than shards of broken pieces, trying to fit together, trying to make sense, trying to put back what was broken.
But I guess, I can’t be whole again. Not when I’m thinking like this. Not with this heavy feeling in my chest that bothers me. Not when I’m letting my sadness define me.
Yes, I am sad, perhaps even clinically depressed. I find socializing a little bit tiring and draining. I am stressed with academics and there isn’t someone that I can talk to. I try to act that everything’s fine but I’m really not. I was so close to breaking down the other day. This is why I need to learn to love myself and for that I am obsessed in feeling whole, in loving myself, and finding happiness.
I used to walk into the light where everything was pure and as white as snow; where everything was clean and good. I used to know the brightness like it was a part of me. It almost felt like I can’t exist without it. It seemed surreal. But with everything that lightness has given me, I can never call it home.
One day, I was walking in a place unknown where I met darkness. Darkness promised me that I will never be alone for he will always be by my side. Darkness promised me a home where I belong. Darkness promised me the cold dark truth than to feed me with stupid lies. Darkness promised that forever he’ll stay and I decided to hold on to that promise — a promise of reality.