There is a kind of moment, when I think I'm unable to do anything.
Unable to talk to anyone.
Unable to express my feelings.
Unable to withhold all negative thoughts.
Unable to motivate and give myself positive input.
And all I want to do is nothing but scream.
When there's no place to scream, I resort to writing, which is why I never deleted this place in the first place. I don't write frequently anymore. I ALMOST DON'T WRITE ANYMORE.
Being sent to Johor is a blessing in disguise. The people here knew nothing about me, and I started a new life. I learn how to talk to people, I learn how to communicate with colleagues. Eventhough people keep on reminding me to keep an arm's length with my colleagues, deep inside I believe true friendship exists in the office.
I learn that I could be accepted the way I am. I don't have to avoid wearing fitting clothes to hide my flabs. I learn that I don't have to hold back from eating my favourite food to look better, I just have to exercise more! Everyone here is being supportive, and I've met people who have faith in me. That faith, kept me going.
2016 is one hell of a challenge. I was assigned with responsibilities. I even made a bold decision to further my studies when I knew I'd suffer from stress at work. Nevertheless, stress is nothing when compared to the sacrifices I made. I sacrifice all my school breaks. I don't get to see my family and my boyfriend more than 5 times a year. I am not there when they need me..
I keep myself busy every single day. I search for goals and motivation. I don't want to face the fact that I can't go home when I could, when everyone else can. I have packed schedules every week, I refuse to feel depressed. I know I'll break down if I do.
Things just never go the way we want. Just when I think things can't get worse, it just did.
I am not as good as people think. I am not as cheerful as I look. I am not as positive as you see. I just put a great deal of effort in motivating myself, and suppressing all the unwanted emotions.
I cry, I hate, I break.
Progress is progress, even if it's just a small one. I know.
There are people with worse situations out there. I know.
I'm blessed, I wake up everyday with a roof, family and food. I know.
Things will get better, just don't give up.
So what if things get better slowly? How does that make things better when your loved ones are not around anymore when things are finally okay? What are all the sacrifices and hard work for?!
Fifteen years, it's been fifteen years..
I don't look back.
But when I do, it hurts so much that I break.