Monday, 21 November 2016, 4am.

Monday, 21 November 2016, 4am.

Sitting at my desk, I am left hanging by the afterthoughts of my own existence.

My study light starts tethering on the brink of blowing out, just like how my mind is flirting with the prospect of going insane. Nothing ever makes sense anymore. things that I have initiated have all crashed and burn.

I stay up at night with a body pumped full of drugs and cup of coffee, questioning myself on why I bother trying everyday.

The small utopia of hopes and dreams I have at the back of my head was always isolated from the desolation and grim that roam around in my system. It’s driving force behind me for the past three years. It was the place that I have always gone to find my inner peace, and to find refuge in the storm of bleakness that has dominated my world.

For years, nothing could get across just like how Oil and Water cannot mix with each other, and there was a balance, although it was never balanced most of the time. Then one day, my idea of perfection escaped and ran into the dark world.

As it enters the dark world, it shined through the abyss of darkness. There was hope, there was happiness, there was warmth, or so I thought.

But as the idea travelled further down, it starts losing bits and pieces of itself, until one day it just crashed and was never to be seen again. That opened the floodgates.

That started the collapse of the utopia. 

I started panicking.

They were never meant to mix. 

The utopia had little to no defences against the overwhelming forces of negativity that dominate my life. 

Bit by bit, it slowly eroded. 

I watched in horror as the devil laugh while he gracefully waltz in, picking up everything that I have built in my mind and smash them into two. There was nothing I could do. The damage has been done.

Where was I to find refuge now? All I had left were the ashes of memories that I started to desperately sweep in hopes that they could become whole again. But all they did was fall through the cracks of my fingers.

As I put my hand into the ashes, they sparkle. There was a sense of rebirth, there was a sense of chance.

In nearly every way, 2016 has been a bad year for me. It took everything I had in plan and smashed it on the floor, and my inner demons used that against me.

I am happy that the end is near.

I no longer have hopes for 2017, neither do I have any feelings, plans or emotions.

But maybe one day I will again.

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