I hate my body. I’m not talking about how I look because no matter how vain I am, the fact I look horrible is attributed to the fact I really don’t know how to make myself look appealing which is beside the point in all of this.

It’s been a long time since I tucked someone into bed and wished them good night after a little bedtime talk. I miss that feeling. It’s always a nice feeling.

Wading in the sadness and bitterness that has otherwise consumed the people I know into just trying to get through a day just…surviving. One has to ask…where did that torch we held as a child go?

Just when you think you hit the limit, you’re finding all sorts of things in yourself that you thought you couldn’t do. Sometimes it’s a good thing, in most cases its a bad thing. In my case it’s definitely a bad thing. A very very bad thing.

Every success, every moment of victory pushes me to want more of it, pushes me to believe that at least at the end of this very dark tunnel, a person like me can dream and turn it into a reality. Then why do I feel so uneasy?