melankoli

I’ll never be surprised if, one of these days, I find myself in a mental ward or asylum. The fact that I’m thinking about these things only proves that I’m literally getting mad.

See, I’m growing very much tired of life. It just doesn’t make any more sense to me. The despair of living is creeping towards me each and every single day of my life. Without a doubt, I need something more than reason to keep living before I finally give in and do the worst and best thing there is next to life—dying. There are times that I contemplate in the idea of suicide even though the very thought of it brings shiver down my spine; probably because I still want to live, and hopefully, prove that life isn’t that bad. Or is it?

Sounds very emo, but I am not—because even before those hardsucking people sprung up from nowhere, I already carried the weight of the world on my thin, puny shoulders. I knew how it is to live like misery is all there is. Ignored. Rejected. Stepped upon. Despised. Humiliated. Isolated. I have a Facebook, Multiply and Friendster account by my thousands of ‘friends’ all sum up into nothing. I know that the real thing is better..but it’s all to no avail. I knew how it is to be surrounded by a crowd and yet, still feel alone.

It was as if all the heavenlies have conspired and concentrated gravity at the very point of my heart. I’m always falling, failing all in my own.

Through the years I have hated what it felt like to be alone, cursed the days of misery, fought hard to forget the resounding silence that has been the anthem of my existence. And here I am still, living on, trying to see the brighter shade of singularity.

But I just couldn’t get away.


Last night while I was reading bible in hope for some console, my eyes began to flood again, with tears out of sadness I didn’t know was there. I couldn’t stop it. I looked by the window, turned the light off and buried my face on my bed and cried.

Now, isn’t that mad?
Lonely without a clue…

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One thought on “melankoli

  1. You are indeed in pain my friend. Dying is easy, living is hard. I will not presume to know the intricacies of the human heart or of the complexities of the human spirit. A soul in pain are wrought-in on itself, that only the soul knows how, when, and where it flows. We are all on a journey of discovering ourselves, and the soul though it rests once in a while, does not sit still for long. I guess, what I’m trying to say is, it’s a process, a life-long process.

    Don’t carry the world on your shoulders, just carry yourself for now. Within you lies all the answers to all your questions.

    The act of crying is nothing to be ashamed of. For me, it is like a crysalis, a harbinger of change and acceptance, a sign of life and rebirth.

    Take good care.

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