8 Dec

I’m staring at this blank document trying to be inspired and think of what shall I write but honestly, I have no idea.
I feel like I lost my muse? Let me just try.

“I don’t have any fear, okay maybe except for flying insects”
I find myself casually telling R as we try to know each other better.
Up till a moment ago, that would have probably been true.
And here I am, realizing that hey, I do have fears and things that I’m afraid of. Perhaps it’s not the things that are materialized but more of life fears.

The first thing that I can think of right now is my fear of falling back into depression.
If you’ve yet to know, all these writings started because of my depression. I didn’t intend to “write my way” out of depression but magically somehow, I just did.
Till today, I am still very amaze at the fact that I manage to survive five years of suicidal thoughts together with the mundane and numbness towards life. What comes with this recovery is the anxiety and fear whenever I start to feel as if life is getting mundane. Each time I feel like life isn’t as interesting anymore, I start to worry if I might just slip back to that dark hole which I really don’t want to go back anymore.

Second thing I can think of is my fear of being lonely. I’ve done so many things simply because I felt lonely. Sex with strangers, no strings attached relationships. All these are nothing but temporary fix. On days like this where I find myself writing in a library filled with people who’re all alone in one way or another, I find myself being afraid of being one of them. Alone.

I love visiting the library. The place full of ideas and creativity all materialized into books. I enjoy reading all these ideas and thoughts yet there are days, like today, where I start to wonder where did the enjoyment went to. I no longer find interest in them and that sucks.

I fear mundane and purposeless life. I’m find myself constantly meeting new people, moving from one to next hoping to keep this life interesting yet I feel like I’ve already and know what it’s going to be like. Life is not going to bring me anything more than what I expected and that scares me. Like there is no purpose in living this life anymore if there isn’t anymore experience that I can experience. Running out of experiences if probably the scariest thing in life. Doing things that you’ve done before and nothing new.


We like to think that we all have a purpose in this life and sometimes I struggle with accepting that I might just not have one. Sigh.

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