I shall challenge my own fear.

Lately, I am afraid of many things. Of the dark, the light. Afraid of sleeping. 

Things should change, but just that one perhaps is about to become static.

Right now I just want to escape into fairytales.

There it goes again, my messy mind.

Organize, organize, organize. I want a break.

But I can’t really let myself crumbling down to pieces right now. Having a break should be the last thing I have to be caring about at the moment.

Do something for the future, pursue happiness, they say. But what is my happiness? Dreams and hopes? I don’t even know.

…

Really, I’m just not cut out for something like that. I don’t understand and I don’t think I will in the mean time.

But I got to admit that although it was altogether creepy and awkward, it was a rather sweet letter.

It’s not me. It’s them.

You got them.

I only left a shadow behind, and a puppet string.

How do you erase a history again? No, don’t tell me about it.

Because of a bastard like you everything is ruined and I don’t know what I am supposed to do with my absolution, my promise, and myself. Or no maybe I shouldn’t blame you now because it had always been my fault in the first place.

That’s why I hate social life. It can get so frustrating.

Everyone has done something for themselves, some kind of accomplishment. I just stay on the same spot, watching everyone goes and panics about the future.

I don’t even know my own dreams, I don’t understand them. I used to have them, but now it’s like they are all dead and buried. Perhaps I don’t have any confidence at all, or maybe I’m just waiting for my own demise sometime soon. And while I am writing this, I start to feel insecure about myself. Something just happened and all of a sudden I doubt my own skills. What am I actually good at? What can I do in the present and in the future?

Should it matter? Sometimes, I can’t help but to ask the truth behind this facade we call as humanity. No matter how you look at it, in the end we are all nothing but servants to the world and its order. “Be yourself” everyone keeps saying that, just ‘be yourself’, be yourself. What is ‘yourself’ exactly? Is it the smile, or the words or attitude or the heart that lead to other people’s judgment?

Pitiful. So pitiful that even the shadows cast away puppets like us. Or is it just me, out of hatred and spite, trying to cast everything away? Or perhaps, out of everything, I am the only one who allow herself to be swallowed by the shadows? Could it be that it is a matter of strength and determination—that I don’t have enough will to survive?

I have decided that I can live calling myself a fraud. Is that not enough determination? I have stayed away from every confrontation just to keep my sense of balance and my sense of control, although the truth is I seriously just want to see you bleed to death. I have given up self-satisfaction for patience and happiness, even your happiness. But I guess that cannot be enough.

Or should I be forever clean—like what I’ve always dreamed of—and to fall from grace in the world? Are you saying that if I don’t have enough strength to surrender something like reputation for my stance’s sake, then I don’t have enough determination? I’d like so much to break free. No one is kind enough inside and out to be able to give with a bit of sincerity. Am I not allowed to spit on your face just because you always picture me in my facade of kindness?