07:00 p.m.

I put my hands inside the pockets of my coat. It is a cold Christmas Eve, and I'd be spending it alone. I hold my car keys in my hand, not knowing where I'm supposed to go. I just know I want to run away from everything. Even just temporarily.

I am supposed to take my anti-depressant pills, but I started to grow sick of its taste. I'd rather not.

Down this city, I drive with only the glow of city lights.

08:44 p.m.

My mind ends up with the thought of innocent children. At this time, most of them must be asleep already. I remember being scolded whenever my mother caught me still awake in 9:00 p.m.

I wish for the youth's future. I wish for it be good and bright and beautiful, so that they may save us from all the crimes and danger the world may bring. Mine is broken, and I guess it will never be fixed.

There is a motto, "Children are the hope of the future."

And indeed, I believe in them.

10:29 p.m.

I don't know where this "escape" road trip is ending up. It might be a waste for all I know. I might be returning to my boring and meaningless life routine — skipping therapy sessions, overdosing heroine, consuming junk foods, and then sleep. It's been almost three and a half hours driving and wasting gasoline.

I pass by my favorite place of being wasted, Just Tonight. The name of it is ironic, because everyone who comes in, kept always coming back.

I know I am searching for something new, but the thought of consuming alcohol haunts me.

The club is full of sweaty, crowding bodies. People who are probably just as isolated and blue like me.

Alcohol is my favorite nepenthe — an effective remedy to alleviate pain and sorrow. It temporarily expunges all of your worries, and distances you from melancholy. Instead, it welcomes and introduces to you the intimate feeling of euphoria. It is simply similar to dreams and imaginations — beautiful and alluring. Yet, you can never escape the slap of reality's consequences and inevitable misfortunes.

As I make my way to the bar, I hold back the tears threatening to escape.

And I don't know why.

11:02 p.m.

I go back to my car with my head throbbing, even with just a few number of shots. Damn it, I didn't bring my pills or even some pot.

I suffer from depression. I admit, those very few therapy sessions benefited me a lot. The voices, which are once shouts of temptation and dismay, are now softer whispers. Nonetheless, their power to control over me, is sometimes still stronger than myself.

I remember my mom who used to be patient with me. She used to feed me and tuck under me the warm bed sheets. She was the only person I am sure who loves me.

I remember she always come home late, usually at this time, eleven. But of course, I never complained despite the emptiness inside me. I truly understand her, and I know that it must be very difficult to try to raise a child, singlehandedly.

I remember her special hot cocoa, perfect for the chilly Christmas weather. We would exchange simple gifts like cards and even a paper clip. We would celebrate the occasion with only the two of us, enjoying each other's company.

I remember I used to stay up late every night, sitting on the sofa, waiting to greet and hug her after a long day of work.

But then last year's Christmas night, she never went home again.

11:11 p.m.

Time's a ticking, it's time for wishes.

I wish for... Wait, what exactly do I want?

Is it the money, to escape my pitiful lifestyle? Or perhaps popularity to gain reputation and respect? Or maybe my mother back? Could it also be loyal and trustworthy friends? A planned and fixed future, perhaps?

Ahh, I know.

I wish for happiness and love, just like everybody does.

12:00 p.m.

It's officially Christmas— time for exchanging gifts and joy.

Most of the houses I pass by have their lights open. In one house, through the windows, I see adults chasing kids. In another, I see a family wearing warm sweaters and sipping hot cocoa, huddling around a fireplace. In another one, I see a group of teenagers cheerfully laughing.

There was one thing that's common in those houses and it is something I don't have.

Merriment.

01:01 p.m.

Although my hope in finding the escape is very much small, my search is not yet done.

Along the way, I see luxurious cars preparing the most awaited Blue Bayou illegal drag racing — neon lights flickering and girls' blinding bodies.

I want to join but I don't have a car like theirs. This one is way too old and creaky.

I wonder about the stories of the drivers behind the sport cars. Are they also searching for an escape? Or is it merely for money and leisure?

2:19 a.m.

Dreams.

They could be wonderful, but sometimes they could be nightmares.

At this time, I suppose most of the population is already dreaming. I wonder what their dreams are.

Sometimes, I wish everything is just a dream. I wish that I will wake up after all the disasters.

But unfortunately, life is not a dream — it is a reality.

And it is us who weaves our destiny.

3:30 a.m.

Wanderers.

Considering the fact that at this time I am still awake (without caffeine or pot), I guess wanderer is the right word to describe me.

Although I am not sure, are wanderers always lost?

I am a wanderer searching for my true home, not a place, but rather the feeling of contentment and peace. I am alone with nowhere to go. Doctors told me I needed the pills and the rehabilitation. But no thank you, Docs. What will the difference be anyway? To be an empty, despairing, and lost individual; or to be a prison and pet of doctors and nurses trapped within four white walls, with unsure guarantees of freedom and calmness.

6:11 a.m.

I park my car and walk towards the cliff. I sit there, dangle my legs, and close my eyes. I think of all the things I've been through, and all the martyrdoms I've suffered. I thought of my entire existence turning into oblivion. No one cares and nobody will. 

I opened my eyes. The sun rising and it is beautiful. It actually gave me a hope of something wonderful. I hated the sun before, because its rays are glaring and annoying. But, today is an exception. It is a symbol of a wonderful, significant change, that will mark and end presence.

I believe that we will always meet whatever our hearts and souls are searching for at the end of the line. And I believe that I found mine in this wonderful place, and it will be personally remarkable to me.

The escape I was searching for was never there; it never existed. Instead, I find out that to obliterate catastrophe, the only possible way is to end the voyage itself. To let the boat sink and the rows slip past your hands.

Therefore, I await for the heavens and the choir of angels to welcome me to paradise. The immigration to where I believe where new life and the real journey will begin to unfold.

Au revoir, l'univers.
Goodbye, universe.

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