Do we live for a sense of normalcy or what? I find myself not being able to speak now, like something is stuck in my throat. It feels awfully familiar yet is something of the past now creeping up on me again. It's comforting and daunting at the same time. I don't know if I'm improving or reverting back to my old bad habits. Am I going forward or backwards.

I have a strong attraction to songs that pull me away from reality. I'm so scared of it. Probably because reality has hurt me so many times whereas this escapism is a safe haven where I am able to accumulate small happinesses and feel detached pain. It's not even bearing in this place, it is that light, the pain I feel there. It is as as tremendous as it is fleeting.

I can't speak. So I write. This is what scares me. Do I only write things when the words are too heavy for my tongue to roll them out. Do I only write when I know what I'll say will come out as thin wisps of uncomfortable air, so worthless and meaningless to others that they'll be responded with either a shoulder brush or a 'comforting' remark similar to one.

However, despite this darkness that ambushes me into an invisible corner, I am glad that I'm writing. Despite my terrible writing, despite it all, I am glad. Kinda. Because I know, just like how it used to be, my words wont turn their backs on me and this furious typing desperate to spill whatever scant emotions I  have left wont evaporate carelessly. They will stand tall, black on white, like knights unashamed to serve their queen. They won't lie, and they wont mutate or manipulate. They are as they are, and they will remain.

♥ 1:26 AM