Ink

I used to live in a make-believe world, pretending that certain things aren't happening. Truth of the matter is a lot of things happen everyday. Life is real, people are real, pain is real, and poverty is real, love is real... I just don't know when to open my eyes to these realities in life. Sometimes, I just wanna close my eyes shut and contain myself in a sealed container. I was selfish.

Life for me was a never-ending struggle between love and hate, joy and sorrow, the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak. It was hard and gray and empty. Sometimes when I go to sleep, the only prayer I would utter was for me not to wake up and go on with the struggle anymore. I was alone and I was weak.

I never thought I would live to see my future. I never thought I would live to the age that I have reached enough maturity to have said I am contented with what life offers me. Never at all did I thought I would feel what I am feeling today. I don't know, maybe I was just so afraid, but now I will no longer be afraid. I will shout out to this world that I have lived and I will love.

One day, maybe just one day, I would lay myself to bed at night thinking of my angry past, leaving it all behind me--- for it is like a phantom that haunts you in your dreams; praying that I should have longer life so I can grow old and learn how it feels like to be loved and accepted. I have loved and I have cried. Perhaps one day, I will cry still, not of pain, but of a lifetime of happiness.