This morning, I have been told that I am cleared. Not entirely cleared but I am getting there. It was a pleasant surprise.
Life indeed has its own way to jolt the nerves out of me. One moment, I was crying (almost silently cussing at almost everything) and then this, I am smiling and I feel better.
While last night was not a very endearing way to make things worthy of waking up the next day – I have chosen to move on. It was hard and nonetheless, buckets of tears had to be shed but I have to.
It dawned on me for the past months (or even years) that to stay is not quite healthy for me – believe me when I say, I went nuts. I grew tired of having this mixed feeling of loving, hating, denying, accepting, crying, whining and hiding.
I have had enough bouts to last me yet I feel am not as strong as I expect myself to be. Crazy. I still breakdown and it seems that there’s nobody out there whom I can completely trust. For some reason, I have learned to hide and lurk.
Yes, I hide and write my emotions.
I would often find myself locked inside my bedroom and write non stop. It has been a routine. Healthy or not, I am not sure. All I know is that I am at most comfortable being alone – inside my bedroom, where no big hands can hurt me, where no big voices can stain me and where I am allowed to “talk” and write non stop.
Life indeed has its own way to jolt the nerves out of me. One moment, I was crying (almost silently cussing at almost everything) and then this, I am smiling and I feel better.
While last night was not a very endearing way to make things worthy of waking up the next day – I have chosen to move on. It was hard and nonetheless, buckets of tears had to be shed but I have to.
It dawned on me for the past months (or even years) that to stay is not quite healthy for me – believe me when I say, I went nuts. I grew tired of having this mixed feeling of loving, hating, denying, accepting, crying, whining and hiding.
I have had enough bouts to last me yet I feel am not as strong as I expect myself to be. Crazy. I still breakdown and it seems that there’s nobody out there whom I can completely trust. For some reason, I have learned to hide and lurk.
Yes, I hide and write my emotions.
I would often find myself locked inside my bedroom and write non stop. It has been a routine. Healthy or not, I am not sure. All I know is that I am at most comfortable being alone – inside my bedroom, where no big hands can hurt me, where no big voices can stain me and where I am allowed to “talk” and write non stop.
