Below is an excerpt from my ramblings that I tried to pen down in my journal, on a severely bad day that I endured last year.

At the time, it felt like I wrote complete nonsense. But I recently read this again and it almost made a little sense. Even made me feel better for a bit. So I thought of sharing this here since I have not been writing a lot otherwise.

“All my life,

I have had really consistent good days.

But a bad day shows up. Always unannounced. Claiming its rightful dramatic place.

So I drag, I drag, I drag it out. And all I end up knowing, is that: I cry for no reason.

No real reason except for the fear. The fear of time, ahead of me. The fear of bad days, ahead of me.

Nothing worse than what I love now. The love I have for my bad days.

It’ll always be there. My misery.

My greatest friend, my worst enemy. My oldest pal, till death do us apart. And maybe not even then.

Death is my only real guaranteed future. Waiting for me to suffer sufficiently and become fluid in my rigidity.

Rigid enough for death to embarrass me. Swallow me whole, without a fight.

But until my Dearest arrives, I have to fight. Get it all out.

Fight myself to death. Fight the good days and embrace the bad days.

Remembering the light in my life as the sun goes down, what will undoubtedly feel like – for the last time.

I’ll be bravest when I finally put down my guard and give in.“