There are days when I feel redundant, like everything is pointless. I wake up in the morning full of hope that the day will be better than before. Maybe, just maybe, today I’d actually have fun doing what I do. Or that at least I could be better at what I do, even if it’s not so much fun. But at the end of the day, looking back, I can’t help but wonder what it’s all for. Why should I keep at it? For the money? The fame? Certainly it’s not for the fun.
Out here, time passes by so much faster than I’d have liked. With every passing day, I miss 24 hours more of the lives lived by my loved ones. That’s another day in their lives filled with conversations, events, laughters, tears, intrigues, etc., that I will never be part of. Because I’m out here, ALONE. I have never felt more alone than I do now. Although that’s not to say that I regret choosing what I actually chose. I’ve done it, there’s no longer any point in thinking about it. I’m not even sure I won’t do the same thing if I had to do it all again. I think my problem lies in thinking about all the stuff I’m missing if I were living my life the way I used to. There was a time in my life when I was single but I was never alone. There was a time when I had to work but I never bitched about it. There was a time when I used to have fun. Nowadays, fun is only a word on the dictionary, a mere idea, without any spirit to give life to it.
Then again, maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s all just in my head. Or maybe, it’s just the hormones…
