Hey Aphony

Can't believe I will be calling you that from now on. So yea, my attitude is not the best in the last entry, but in reality its really not all that unpleasant. Well, at least I hope not. I do care, and I am sensitive to things, the problem is that I just care too much. And well... aargh, I am not good with this, coming to term with ... this. It's not easy for me to write my heart out, telling everything person to a piece of paper.

But... I got an idea though. Instead of being straightforward and list down all my problems, I will write like a story teller, because everything that comes to mind, I weave them through writing much easily than writing a single fact about myself. A bit weird isn't it? I guess that's just how human nature is. To be honest, I wanted to write poetry, but I am no poet, and I need a lot of practice to doing poetry because like writing a diary, I never done it before, at least, never done anything personal.

Then again, I believe the way I write stories, fiction, is quite poetic if I do say so myself. I can breeze through them like a showman. I become a singular entity, a magician upon a stage. I could (or I at least hope) inspire others, could show them a world beyond but within their reach, reveal all the creative madness I hold in this thick skull of mine.

I could be a writer, a magician that could hopefully turn someone's gloomy day to a bright one with just a tap of my fingers. I become invincible, unstoppable, a force that is wild and free that had no boundaries. I could be free, escape from the cage of anxiety that bounds to me.

But as you probably guessed it, it never freaking last. After everyone is done reading, after the show is over, the audience would pack up and go home. All I would be left with is a darkened spotlight and an empty theatre. I would have no choice but to throw away my costume, the disguises and look at the mirror where a monster would look right back at me with voices whispering through my ears.

It's funny when I think about it. One moment, I am the ruler of the world, nothing in my way as I lead a crowd of people into the madness of my creativity, of my imagination and then the next, I am all alone in an empty, cold dark room with silence so loud it overwhelms me to the point of suffocation. The catch is, it will take so much damn time to get back up again.

Be positive, they said, nothing last forever, they said. But guess what, its hard. It's like asking someone to wear glasses that makes you see everything green, then asking them to see something red while they are still wearing glasses. You optimists may say then take off your glasses, but then you will not only see red now will you? You might even say wear glasses that makes you see red but like I said, it is not easy.

You may think that there are people who will help you get through it, but the thing is, there is not. You see, the irony of it all is as I write, I wear a mask which enables me to be myself. But once I take off my mask, I become someone else entirely. Complicated, isn't it?

When I don't write, when I am in reality, I have these obstacles that I have to face. Each of them requires a level of skill, a level of points to get through, and quite frankly, I am in level zero. So how do I get past them? Well, I don't, not really. As I said before, I become someone else entirely. I adapt

The problem is because I adapt, I can't show my true self towards anyone, even to the very few I am close to. It's a miracle that they even want to hang around with a nobody like me. To be honest, I like them to be happy. If they ask me to do something, I would literally do anything, except anything that may risk my life like pulling the trigger and shooting myself in the head, or killing anyone, anything immoral along those lines really

Because I care, I care deeply and its one of my weaknesses. I don't want to burden them, I don't want to be disappointed with the monster that hides beneath the magician disguise. I don't want them to worry. But at the same time, as I laugh, I cry, as I smile, I weep, as I poke fun with them, I am screaming at them to save me.

Most of the time, I am fine with hiding, I am fine with concealing this depression of mine from them. But sometimes, I get tired, tired of pretending I am fine, tired of being the girl they know me as to be. Sometimes, I just want to show them who I really am, and scare them off so I could be alone in peace.

But I don't want to be alone with nothing but my tears to accompany me.