There are times that I think my brokenness makes me toxic,
so I’ll avoid talking to anyone. I’ll stop responding to texts, stop responding
to calls, stop going out anywhere at a risk that I can run into anyone. I don’t
even want to leave the room because it means running into people that you’ve to
put on the mask on. I’ll just stay in the room and lye on bed for the rest of
the day. Yet there are days when I am stronger than my brokenness that I’ll
force myself out and start doing on things.
Some days it’s easier; some days it just breaks me all over
again. Other times I just want to get out of this place, get out of this
country, choosing somewhere on the map and just going – eventually realizing
that I couldn’t quite afford to do that. I know that I have to keep going no
matter what, I have to keep walking, I have to keep forcing myself to move. I
can always take a step outside, rather I always hide deeper inside so no one
could see.
I’ve always been the one to cling onto the past and hope that
if I stay in the past then the nostalgic feeling will become reality. Yet, what
I really want to do is find a place that I can be truly happy for the rest of
my lives.