November 2nd.

It was raining pretty hard. Well, it’s been raining almost all day everyday recently, so there was no surprise there. The clock said that it’s 7:30 pm and I was still at campus, just finished a group assignment. I changed into a thick sweater and took out my umbrella, and walked home because the last mini bus was gone at 6 pm. It was quite a long walk, and I was walking in the rain, so you bet I did some thinking. I thought about my grades, I thought about my mum, I thought about the lost loved ones, practically everything.

As of lately, I’ve been whining to people how hard my life is. How miserable the life I’ve been living. How sad I’ve been feeling. And then all of a sudden, this thought hit me. I was walking quite a distance in the rain, whining about the dirt on my sandals and feet, complaining about the inconsiderate drivers. But I didn’t have to do that. I could’ve called a taxi to pick me up and drive me back home safely. I knew I could. But I didn’t, I chose to walk instead, carrying a heavy bag filled with textbooks, papers, and a laptop. Why?

I kept walking, and walking. I tried to recall how I’d been living my life as well. Then I remember. Some of the simplest things. Like how I starve myself at most nights but instead of eating, I complain about it. I could buy some food, but I use the excuse of “saving” to stop me from eating. Like how I waited for my group for hours for days, knowing every single time that I could just leave, but I didn’t. I waited, I exhaust myself, and then whine about it.

I could get out of this misery, I could be selfish and/or happy, but I didn’t. I chose to stay. I choose to stay in my own misery. And at that moment of thinking, I knew the reason why. Because I need the pain. As much as I don’t want to suffer, I want the pain. Because I feel like the pain I have would justify my very existence in this world. That’s why I starve myself. That’s why I hurt myself. That’s why I always choose the harder way to solve things. That’s why I complicate situations, why I tangle a perfectly organised string of fates. Deep down, I have this voice inside my head telling me that I’m worthless. And that’s why I should suffer, that’s why I should be miserable. Because I don’t deserve any of this. Maybe everyone else was right all along.

Maybe I really did bring this upon myself.

3 months ago with 15 notes 15 notes
tagged as: writing. prose.