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.