I can probably hold my nose up in the air now and brag about how I’ve survived overloading my studies with five courses and one part-time/causal job throughout my whole final semester.
Yet, it wasn’t good enough. I didn’t try hard enough. They weren’t tiring enough to break me. Wasn’t enough to push me over the edge. Wasn’t even enough to numb that hurt that never healed.
So much for bragging, Tng.
I guess, I did come close to breaking. Just that some survival instincts were activated, so I live. Damn. But running away is tough. One second of freedom and you’re gone. You cry. You feel that crack in your gut and you feel that hollow space in your chest. You feel that damage and you know that, even if you heal, you will only be a product of a damaged good.
Because that’s escapism. Because the fear of facing the pain is greater than the fear of running away. Because the living has got to live.
And you see the ugliness of people. Those who are irresponsible. Those who brag of their everlasting love but will shun away because their
apparently-very-wholesome love cannot even encompass your changes. Those who can only comprehend that which is ‘different’ to be ‘wrong’.
But on the bright side, I guess I’ve also got to see those who will embrace your changes, your dilemmas and your contradictions. Those who understand that humans can be unsure. Those who can comprehend that life is a series of constant metamorphosis, and while changes can feel unpleasant, they still fully accept who you are. And they are those who truly love, truly judge but truly accept.
Damages to the heart will always be irrevocable. But for those who appeared on the bright side, I can only be ever grateful.