I’ve never been the best in overcoming my anxieties, so writing is usually my escapade to vent out my troubles. Though there were times when I just couldn’t help it, so eventually I cried. It is as if all the things that I’ve been protecting in this strong barrier suddenly burst just like that. I felt relieve though in most cases, but usually it’ll be followed by this hollowness inside.
The hollowness may be a mixture of loneliness, in which I would ask myself whether I’m the only one who experienced this kind of thing amongst the 7 billions of the human population. Then I would become all nostalgic where I really really really wished for time to go back and take me to my younger days. Where the society won’t see me as a lonely stranger but instead would welcome me as a mere innocent child.
Inside, it felt like my own hope-built up sword just stabbed me, then some unknown force twisted it.
Like I’m a knight on the battle field, taking the arrows for my comrades and they stood there, stupefied and eventually… left.