Z.C

I have been floating, I always feel like I'm floating. Somewhere in the void, a vast space I pretend to be peaceful. The only thing that keeps me anchored is my imagination, yet imagination can only do so much.
          
          Death. When will it come?
          
          Will it be merciful or cruel?
          
          Am I.. going to leave this world so soon?
          
          Of course, I can never know for sure. I am no God, I can't exactly rewrite my fate. And as much as I want to believe it's not true, I'm more than eager to admit that I am powerless.
          
          That is always what I am, no? Lowlife, without a purpose. A girl who is doomed to be consumed by the darkness.

This is torture.

Once again, I am destroying myself— all because I had to act like someone who could be relied on. I should've been more patient, letting everyone play their own roles as I simply watch in the distance. Why did I have to speak? Why did I have to offer myself? Why couldn't I simply stay low, and rely on the others instead?
          
          Why should I act the same way as I did when I wanted to survive?
          
          I don't... want that anymore. I want to live, and to feel. I want to be.. a true human. Someone— who could freely speak without being overly secure about what I have to hide. It's exhausting. I can feel like I'm losing myself again.
          
          How am I supposed to live now?

A new journey would simply lead to a new life. Although I would prefer to flow like the wind, I couldn't simply... be unselfish enough to let go. Attachments are such cruel things, yet I slowly felt myself getting more.. alive, because of them.
          
          When in the end, I know that everything will disappear. They will either be gone, or they would witness of my.. shortcomings.
          
          ..It scares me. Feeling human scares me.

I should be responding, yet I choose to stay silent. I could merely stare- unfeeling towards anything that took place in that very moment. Was it the past or is it the present? All I know is that future seems nonexistent.

Everything feels suffocating. Everything feels empty. Everything feels alone. Everything feels nothing. Everything feels pain. Everything feels sorrow. Everything feels unfamiliar. Everything feels dark.
          
          But the light is there, and all I need is to be patient enough to reach for it. 

Death, have mercy on us.

If paradise is where all of you are waiting, then to the heaven I go.

I'm shaking. Why am I shaking? All I need to do is to speak, is to tell them that I'm still here, to tell them that I'm alive and well. I couldn't. I couldn't muster the courage to talk.
          
          Yet I forced myself to mutter out a few words or so, and thus ending my non-verbal episode. I continued to talk and talk, and now I am unstoppable.
          
          But it was never gone. I feel like someone was churning my stomach inside out. I am uncomfortable with this. I want this to end.

It's not wrong, is it, to feel something? I'm going to make it out alive, and I should've been glad.
          
          But why do I feel disappointed instead?