I think all this while, the one thing I’ve been desperately wanting is for someone to ask if I was okay, if I’ve been good. I kind of grew tired of being the one listening. I should drop the act. I’m not okay. I’m totally a mess inside. Every day has been cold and numb and I really need someone to call me now and ask me if life has been good for me.
I could hear voices from my surrounding when it’s past midnight. Past midnight is the time when my brain stops functioning rationally, when I start to count my flaws over & over again, when my suicidal thinking is at its peak & when I don’t remember who am I before. I just want to hide from people but I’ll get lonely & I hate that I get lonely when I’m not around with people even when they make me feel sick, reckless & unwanted.
I have never known so much things. Haruki Murakami is really good in tossing around my feelings. Putting that aside; I think I just ruined a beautiful book but it seems that all these years, I have never been satisfied with the way I write in my journals. At the end of the day I usually find my beautiful notebooks torn apart when they barely taste the flavour of living.