From this shore, I could walk on and end it all, but something holding me back, something in me screaming, "it's too soon to cross the river..!"

Beneath the moonlit sky, I let out a dejected gasp. Thoughts form and then evaporate. I cannot quite get hold of my mind. Too staggered with emotions, I lie as long as I can without breathing - alone in a strange new land, while the actual world all around me hums on.

 

It's just dawn on me that I'm becoming increasingly tired of being me. I am a weary company for myself, sometimes. Even I have been a nightmare to myself. That's the whole trouble. When you're feeling very depressed, you can't even think. Admittedly, this is no way to live, but it's hard to start a new life when you're still mourning the old one. Moreover, it doesn't help to go through bearing the knowledge that you've fallen from an ugly tree hitting every branch along the way.

 

I died too, inside, on that day. And It still feels like yesterday and it's been yesterday for four years. Although I look the same, but I ain't the same as you know, life goes on and all that crap. 

Though occupying my spot in the fathomless human wilderness, sometimes I feel like the last person on earth, so alone and forgotten as though everyone deserted me.

 

"Nonplussed and strayed" was the observation of an acquaintance a couple of weeks before, when I’d given him a vague account of how very loose I was in the world. It was a world I had never been to and yet had known was there all along, where I staggered too, in sorrow, bewilderment, fear and hope. Always wandering and deviating from the right course. To be lost, to be without a home, to move around aimlessly in search of something I can't figure out.

 

I know there's no gainsaying the fact that I am on a shaky ground, albeit the flames of my slow-burning angst has disappeared to ashes. However, to cure me of myself ain't an easy task by any mean.... But I'm trying to heal. Trying to get the bad out of my system, so I could be good again. Well, not really good, but, leastways, void of regret.

 

I have no issues with telling I love listening to the waves as they crash into the curb I lie on, wetting my feet... I know I'm at the end of a line. I can't bear myself any longer. The best may yet to come, but right now, everything feels abandoned and forlorn. From this shore, I could walk on and end it all, but something holding me back, something in me screaming, "it's too soon to cross the river..!"