Introvert

Dear Cecelia Ahern, please bring me another story as touchy as P.S I Love You…

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First and foremost, I shall apologize for the inconsistent maintenance to my dearie bloggie. I was sulked in the past two weeks, rolled up in all gloomy doomy emotional downturn. And I wouldn’t know how to put this into a story.

 

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Early that night I was joyfully writing up about my HK trip, humming happy tunes while going through those Ocean Park photos.

Later that night I was told that I wasn’t, and isn’t the only one. Suddenly everything has fallen apart.

The world changed too fast, sometimes people might not able to cope with it’s pace.

 

It’s been two weeks, or more.

I can barely recall how I survived through the following days. It was so bleak, and so blank. I kind of remembering myself to work, to eat, to talk, to go home and then bathe myself and curled up in bed – that’s where all my normality ends.

Sometimes a phone call or an MSN alert pulled me back to reality. I remembered how to chat, how to smile. But I have forgotten how to feel.

I wasn’t, and isn’t the only one. These words aren’t a dagger. A dagger may poke through your flesh and then heart, you may greedily take a last breath and then gone. These words are probably a rod, or rope, you may survive through the whipping, but each and every whip may takes your flesh away, bit by bit, and you stay and struggle till the endless end.

.

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..

I have never been through such pain, such hopeless struggle. I confessed that I do not intend to tell my story here and now. I just need a channel to release.

I just do not know how to put this into story.

 

God, if you can hear me, wake me up from the nightmare, bring me back to where I belonged. Grant me a miracle that I wished to be granted, or take away the evil within and set me free.

Thank you, with love.