When I was younger, I’ve resented a lot of people for making me feel like I’m not their first choice. Like if the world would end tomorrow, all of them will have someone… an ally, a friend and I will be left alone to fend for myself.

For many years, I’ve felt that way. I didn’t realize that I was unconsciously building a wall around me to protect myself from pain. And in the process of doing so, I’ve pushed people away because I’ve conditioned myself into thinking that I’m alone and I’m okay with that.

I am still okay with that.

People are, after all, passing and temporary. Almost all of them won’t stay by my side for as long as I want to. I’ve practiced detachment and apathy to the point that I’m almost okay with not caring for anybody.

I believed that if I lose someone, I’d meet someone else along the way. So why would I bother to ask someone to stay when they can just go and I can find someone else, possibly better?

It didn’t work all the time, though.

Some people saw through the cracks and clung to me like mossy vines, stubbornly holding on. And I realized that I am not completely alone. That I can always find someone to share my thoughts with, to argue with or to just be silent with.

So now, I can sit still, all by myself, without being lonely. I can be with people and be happy too.

I am okay with both.




There are two types of tiredness. The first one can be cured with rest. You can make it go away by taking a nap. The second one is more difficult to get over with. It’s like a rock on your back, getting bigger and heavier with each step you take.

These past six months have been really tiring for me. I may not be lifting a finger to work every day, I may not always go out and do stuff with friends, but I feel like drowning every night. I’ve had countless, dreamless nights of sleep. I’ve become too tired to even dream.

There are days that I’d feel okay like life has given me a breather, but it’s only so I could survive another drowning. My lungs constrict painfully with every inhale. Breathing became a luxury.

Ever had that feeling that you have no right to keep on breathing? Ever had that feeling that you shouldn’t go on living?ย Everything became heavy. The sad thing is that I feel like I can’t ask for help because I don’t want to burden anyone. So, I try to transform this fatigue into words hoping that writing them down would lighten the load.

Nothing feels worth waking up for anymore.