“Why was it easy, when we were kids to say sorry? And now that we are adults, parang dyahe na.”
Why the words killed me was not because I found it hard to say sorry, but it occurred to me that I was not growing up. In my little world, where no one understands me, where no one knows who I really am, where I am overwhelmed by my own insecurity and driven by feelings of inadequacy, I would always find myself in a corner mouthing SORRY.
If the next paragraph has something to do with my sentiments above, I am not sure.
Every thing that I LOVE doing – every big thing that happens to me – turns out to be a disappointment. Why misery has been coming and going is because everytime I find something that sets me afire, something that thrills me, would later turn out to be the reason of despair.
And I am starting to be afraid. Just afraid.
I am losing everything. More often than not, i lose those (that, who) have built a special place in my heart.
