Life Is Better Alone. Or At Home.

a couple of months ago, the familiar visitor knocked on my door. unwanted visit, unannounced. depression once more.

funny thing is, i know it is not a big problem. i've had worse. trust me. the worst you can imagine. it is not an exaggeration, what i felt when i was younger, what i faced, what kind of life i led.

still, i curl up under the blanket and cry in my sleep now. other people might find it easy to not bother about it, but i just. . . can't. i care. and when that happens, i'm crushed.

i wonder why it even is a problem of mine. what did i do wrong. okay i have committed a shore of sins alright, still to be specific, what did i do to deserve it? i make mistake in other areas, not that one.

when i thought i've succeeded in overcoming my own emotion, live like a robot, trust in God and nothing more especially those insignificant others in my life, or when i thought the universe pitied me and the problem vanished in thin air, in simple words when i started to be happy and carefree, it comes again.


now i am miserable inside, i am a prisoner in my own world, a hostage of others. i don't know if my worry has any base or not, maybe i'm the one who's freaking paranoid. i don't know.

what i know is i despise what i see. i hate what i hear.

i need a break. a long break i can never get enough of because guess what? I've had enough of this.


but tomorrow i'm gonna face the whole shit again. it's not some serious shit, but the place itself smells like it unwelcomes me or something of sort.



just get me out of there already.