This one whole week seems a little bit too much for me to handle. I’ve only been there for a month and it feels like a year. I’ve been rushing here and there, from one end of the island to another with my heavy bag. I could feel my shoulder bones are breaking. Sleepless nights and skipping meals seems to be a norm. Things changes, as time passes. I could count the days since. Feels like i was living in ‘500 days of Summer’, only shorter. I’ve been through this alone and i can’t complain, i couldn’t. Things doesn’t seem to go my way anymore, always. Everyday, it feels like rocks keep piling up in my chest and stones are shooting across my brain. It’s hard to pace up with time and people nowadays.
And when i got back, i found myself feeling so alone despite being surrounded by people during the day. For at moments, it feels like time is pulling me back to the days when i was hurting. But healing.
As of just now while i walking on the way back home, i could actually feel how heavy this little thing of mine is inside. It has been a very long time since. For those words i can’t utter, turns to be bitter. I had to finally let it out. No matter how strong i thought i was, i was wrong. For that few minutes.
And it turns out that i actually miss those good times i had, with you.