You must know that most of my favorite writings were done during my toughest hours because it is when every word I write is sincere. Every word is heartfelt. I write to express my anger, confusion, madness, stupidity, boredom, apprehension and fear of too much happiness. I think it’s because I cannot easily say what I feel inside. I am not good at talking about my feelings. I write about it instead.

I hope this time it will work.

I am hitting two targets both at the same time. First, you are reading my work. Second, it’s about what I am feeling right now. And although emotion is one of the dimensions of writing, writing about how I feel now and addressing it to you is somehow odd. Please don’t mistake this for a love letter, though it also crossed my mind. I just smiled having such a thought. For how can this be a love letter when I don’t even know what this is, from what we are, down to what this writing is about. What I do know is that I am feeling. Maybe because I am getting tired of thinking, of analyzing and rationalizing everything. It leaves me no choice but to feel.

And I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling insecure where I am at and where I am going. I usually plan things ahead of time. I am very predictable. I plan who, what, when, where and how I should get things done. Now I don’t have any. I can now even start to believe that there’s such a thing called free fall. I am just waiting to hit the ground. I am just waiting for the final hour when you will say that this is not going anywhere, not now, not ever.

I am scared to let you know that I am scared. Scared to fall. Scared to lose control. Control is one of my favorite words, not messy. I am afraid of breaking down and out. I am even afraid of you. You are capable of making me laugh, what more of making me cry? Such a selfish thought I know, but you must remember, “I am also just a girl…”

I have been here before, the same, exact situation. Funny how I like doing this over and over again. The only difference is that I do this with different people, with different gravity, with different bearing. I know it wouldn’t hurt if I tell you, you placed second in terms of gravity. I also know that it wouldn’t change anything about you, me, or us, if there is any us to speak.

These are the times when my love for abstracts betrays me. These are the times when I would prefer two points between a distance. These are the times when I could not stay in one place. These are my trying times.