Listening to Fast Car and wishing someone could just take me away to a faraway place. Anywhere but here. A one-way ticket to the next flight out of Singapore. Paris maybe, or Venice. It seems like the more I try to hold myself together, the more everything seems to fall apart. The more I want to and try to keep everything to myself, the more I just want to empty everything in my head to someone else. But words in the head are like voices underwater. When I try to verbalise my thoughts they almost never go quite the way I want it to. So it’s just better that I keep my thoughts to myself anyway. I know myself best. Don’t I?
I hate this feeling because I feel like a complete weakling. I can control it, sure, but it’s taking a toll on me. Maybe starting anew would be best. But I’m approaching the end, and you know what they say, it always hurts the most when you’re nearing the end.
Leave tonight or live and die this way