Let me blog.
I was outside of my place, at the garden opposite where I park the bike. Sitting on the stone table and chair, where I once played in the playground when I was young. Before it was broken, now overrun by a bunch of potted plants. And some of them overgrew until it grew roots on the ground.
As I stood up, I felt empty.
Only pain, but emptiness.
As I walked towards the step, past the bike that gave me freedom for the past weeks; allowing me to do the things that I was never able to do when I was younger. When the family was home. When my brother was home. When my mum would shout at the both of us.
Where I would shut up and let her say what she wants.
But because I stood up, and walked on, with chains and bangles on my ankles, I felt gravity pulling me down to the earth.
I fight for my right.
But why does fighting for my right feels wrong?
The more I walk, the more pain being inflicted.
I began to choke. Not forgiving myself for who I've become. My tear glands gave way. But being me, what are tears?
I opened the door, I came home to..
This used to be the best feeling that I could ever feel. So much peace. Nobody fighting against each other. I don't see my brother shouting towards my mum. Or my mum shouting towards my dad. Or myself shouting towards my mum and back at me.
I just came home to nobody.
I closed the door, and the ultimate feeling closed down upon me.
Something I never experienced before. The sort of thing that you would suggest me to go to a psycologist.
It gets lonely sometimes. And today, I didn't get to say goodbye. My mum left. And I'm not going to see her for quite a bit.
I am sad that I can't sleep well everyday, resulting to me staying up till 7am or 10am in the morning, then getting sleep after that.
My responsibilities grew bigger and bigger. My smiles, laughs and jokes at work are just my acting tools to allow me to shadow myself from what I really feel.
When I walked into the room. I saw the messiest place in the world. This is my room. But it was not the place on how I grew up.
So, I sat down on my bed. Grabbed my guitar, and played the tunes that didn't sound like music although they're theorically right.
I came home to nobody.
I played the guitar, without a soul.
I wanted to see myself, but I never bothered to look at the mirror. I just walked past it. I didn't even bother to see myself.
I don't love myself.
I don't know love.
I don't know who I'm coming home to.
I do not acknowledge my father's criticisms, advises or praise. I used to be proud, but take note of the key word - used to be.
I have no idea what my goals are. Who am I going to be when I'm 30. What am I going to be doing when I'm 30. Where I'll be..
.. Have I ever thought about it? Yeah. But I put the thoughts aside because I don't even bother.
It took me very quickly to realise two things.
1) I've completely failed at being myself.
2) I've screwed up someone else's life, but not my own.
My passion and curiousity for things begun to die. My coffee knowledge, my guitar theories, quick mathematical calculations, and my passion towards my mother tongue.
Very dishonourable. And everybody still hangs onto who I am.
Some people say that it's not worth it, and I don't deserve this. But if I've screwed up someone else's life really good, I've disgraced my own character. Yet, I'm better off as a loner.
If I were to be in a battlefield, and when the general gives the order to commence on the war, I'd be the first one who takes the opposing country's first blood before the rest.
And before I fall, and be forgotten.
Not because of what I've done.
But for who I've been. And who I am.
I can understand most of you can't forgive me.
I don't mind.
Death is just another phase of life.
So to who reads this sooner or later, make full use of what you have left in your life.
You may be a loser, an emo person, a happy person, or successful person.
Eventually, you will find your happiness.
An eternal one.
I lost mine.
And there's nothing I can do.
"To do music, you have to really sacrifice everything you've got."
And I just might.
Merry Christmas, everyone. Have a white one.
Mine will be like any other ordinary day. Celebrations can always be postponed.
Thank you to those who made my life worth living.
"Soon, I'll be free as a bird. And this bird, you cannot change."
But hey. You all would be happy soon, right?
Soon, there'll be one person less to worry about. Doesn't that sound good?