I’d like to believe that there are already cracks around me, but I’m still in the course of the test. I know that I will get through this, but I’m not sure when. On the following months, I’m anticipating more blows. And I hope not to fall apart.
There are days when you feel hopeless. Everything around you is fading into view, slowly getting away and out of hand. You have no appetite on times like that, and all you do is think. Bad ones. No one could talk to you because even looking at the person’s eyes feels like you’re exerting a lot of effort. You look for distractions, but watching crime thrillers or reading romantic novels doesn’t work anymore. You console yourself that you will be better tomorrow for you’ve already slept. But you know that’s a joke. Because a one night’s sleep would not take away the problem, it will just make you forget for a short while.
These cracks are like the scars we get. It didn’t kill us, but they serve as a reminder that we were strong enough to get over something. And the great part is, we continue to be stronger.