After a long time, I finally had some time to get back to my old self. I feel like a child again. It’s pretty sad that this happy feeling doesn’t last, and I’m usually stuck at that point in my life where I’m simply just motivated to do a lot of things, and I don’t make a lot of effort to inch forward.
Phew. I don’t know. Movies, a little practice on photoshop, checking out animes, playing with our dogs, learning new songs with my guitar, nonstop attempt on singing and shit. That’s all I do. And none of these things were in my initial to-do-list this vacation. I wanted to be productive. I wanted to hone my graphic making skills. I wanted to learn a lil bit of videography. I wanted so much of the things that would pamper my ego, and that would at least make me feel less inferior to him. Because I’m feeling so small, so small now… Like I was a-good-for-nothing idiot. I thought I’ve made it in here because I was doing just great in life. I studied in the highest university. I worked hard. I didn’t have vices. I put off things that would hinder me from being successful. I wrote off my own dreams to concentrate on my course. I didn’t go to a lot of parties. I shut out a lot of people. I did almost anything to uplift the image and honor I’ve established ever since I was a kid. The kind of honor my sisters couldn’t give Mom, because I thought they were useless and worthless.
And now I’m beginning to think I chose the wrong path. I’m the lone person here that isn’t happy. Honor and excellence. I thought I was doing everything right. I wanted it more than anyone. And yet I’m here. Drowning. Suffocated by own decision of isolation. I was there already—I felt the advantage of being different. Or more accurately, in my perspective back then, being distinct.
I guess that was my reward for being alone. Or putting it another way, I guess being alone was the price.
And I’m not happy. I’m no longer happy.
Yet I feel like no one can hurt me anymore. Because I have nobody. I don’t have anyone I love left.