Back to writing here I guess?

I tried to write in Malay.

When I traced back my memory to last year, I think the only memory I have are grieves and numbness. And of all other countless ironic things which basically define who I am.

I am a paradox.

I am desperately finding reasons to believe in the future.

My small world, is stagnant most of the times.

Things are moving mercilessly fast around me.

And I think romanticizing the idea of travelling the world is not really that bad.

At least that is what keeping me purposeful. 

But time stopped again for me.

I am once again in the midst of storms of confusion and difficulty.

I am so used to being alone that I can't have another person be the reason I am sad.

I only have myself to blame.