KMN

I haven't written anything for a while. I mean to write but I just can't put pen to paper the way I used to be. And it's because I didn't want to write to begin with. I was under the impression that if I didn't write, then it'll just be inside me, and soon, it'll die a natural death. But the longer it goes, the more it corrupts everything in me. And I'm afraid that if I didn't do anything about it now, I won't be able to recognize myself the next morning.

 

I made a mistake of trusting myself.

 

I've been in this world for more than three decades and I've seen a lot of things growing up. I even experienced most of those things. That's why I was pretty confident that I know everything there is to expect, and in hindsight, I did know. It's just that even though I knew what would happened, I still took the risk. I still gambled. And it resulted in something that I thought is no longer possible.

 

I hate myself more than I could possibly hate myself for.

 

Who would have thought that someone as cynical, pathetic, pragmatic, pessimistic, and downright wasted as I am, that I could hope for something better for myself. I actually believed that there's a rainbow after this shitty storm that's currently drenching my life. I actually believed. I actually hoped. I actually saw redemption.

 

Then I fell... hard.

 

It's nobody else's fault but myself. I allowed myself to feel something that I shouldn't in the first place. I opened myself up and brought down my walls. I showed my true self. And in return, I actually thought that I was doing the right thing. And no, I didn't do all of that because I already felt what I felt. No. I did that because I thought it was the right thing to do. Apparently, I was wrong. Because in doing so, I felt something.

 

Goodbye is never easy.

 

I had to pull myself up. I had to turn my back away. I had to do something, anything, to avoid anymore pain. I could endure hurting myself, both physically, emotionally, and mentally, but I could never forgive myself for hurting the people that I care about. And so I have to leave. I had to say my goodbyes. Because staying will only mean hurting them. Yes, I know, leaving could hurt them, too. But the pain is lesser compared to my staying. Because I know myself. I'm an evil person. And I will not stop to get what I want as long as I am around. So I have to leave. I have to go.

 

Redemption is not what I'm after.

 

It might sounded as a good deed, me leaving. Maybe good for the people involved but definitely not for myself. Because this here, leaving, it's killing me. Slowly, painfully. And something inside me dies in every passing second. When the clock strikes twelve, there will be nothing inside me anymore. Nothing to redeem. Nothing to live.

 

 

 

I fell hard.

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Now it's time to get up.