Last night, instead of crying myself to sleep, I let it all out just before shutting myself down. I was on my knees begging and praying that I hope not to lose faith, and if I needed to confront this situation, I pray I would handle it gently and with utmost patience.
I'm truly disappointed with how things turned out to be. How ugly and painful truth can be. It's so overwhelming.
I didn't realise how long it has been since I've been this depressed and anxious. I forgot just how excruciatingly exhausting and how suffering it is to stay above water, especially when you don't know how to swim. I know better than to suffer in silence, and writing this post does not make me weak. Admitting that I am indeed not okay is one of the many steps to regain my strength and to preserve myself.
If I needed to go through this course alone, then God shall guide me through it. If this was the purpose of my existence here, then I shall do my best to save it before it really breaks. But who would've thought, right?
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