chArONIMOUS

Sometimes i cant help but wonder whether or not i am where im supposed to be. Looking back, nothing fits perfectly in the vision i had of me of the future. I reminisce how i have been in the past years - stressfully happy for the things i love doing. Writing, for the most part. It pains me to remember the fact that me being an official writer is nothing but a mere memory, an illusion i might sometimes mistake for, if not for these old school papers that i keep where i shall be able to glance at it everyday. I am bitter, i should say, that the language i am teaching myself to understand and live with is light years away from the language which i used ever so often back then. I can no longer be what i wanted to be when i was still naive of the world yet so full of zest for life. Will i ever be the same? Or was i even the same in the first place? Was it my mere dreaming that's confusing me of what i really was? Im starting to hate being awake as another day unfolds and suffer early morning contemplations that more often than not, speak of the truth that i so deliberately hide from myself every single day of my monotonous life. I am not ranting, im not asking for more, im not even trying to prove a point long forgotten into oblivion. Im plainly sad. Sad at not being able to do something that i have long convinced my self was a part of who i was*am?*. Something which i believed to define me as a human being among the other billions of billions ofr atom-comprised beings who like me like to ponder on things and depress themselves. I wish i could turn back time. I wish i had someone right here with me to lend a shoulder. But no one is, im alone and its dark and the only face i see is one that i have been so familiar with yet i havent got a clue to how her mind really works or what her heart says or why even so. She looks me straight in the eye, and just as i always do, i flash her a fake smile ive perfected so long ago.