Posted at 2:15 AM 0 comments (+) Sometimes reading back on my archives make me feel sad. I had thought then, that the end of A levels would mean finally being free, "freer than I have ever been in my entire 19 years of existence." I also remember back when I was 17 and I had a really big fight with my mum, I swore I'll move out of the house the moment I turn 21.

I'm turning 22 in little more than a month and I am not only not free, I feel as if I'm not even alive.

I just don't understand why everything has to be such a struggle, be so painful. There is not a day that goes by where I can actually do what I want to do without feeling that familiar guilt burning at the back of my mind.

Why can't I stay up listening to music until 4 or 5am as I please? Why is it frowned upon when I can't get out of bed before noon? Why can't I spend my days just writing stories about a life I yearn to live?

Why should I care?

I have been like this for so many years, fighting myself for so many years, I no longer try to figure out from which exact point onward did I stop giving a fuck. As the years go by, I only care less and less. And the problem is that I care so little, about consequences, about what people would think of me if I failed, about the whole damned future. I couldn't care less if I were to drop dead this instant.

Life in the last few years has always been about counting down. Counting down to the start of finals, counting down to the end of finals, counting down to the day I can finally start to live. That day never really seems to come, though.

I am so tired all the time. Whether I've slept 13 hours or 3, I'm tired all the same. Always so helpless, always so lost. So weak.

The counter has finally dropped to a single digit and it is legit time to lose my shit.
D-8