I'm Depressed. I Think.

I was eating two slices of chocolate cake when it suddenly hit me.

It’s been more than two years now since I was enforced to stay out of the public’s eye. 

I did EVERYTHING they wanted me to do (well, almost everything). But things are still the same. 

I’m not rushing them to trust me again like how they did before. But even just a little tiny bit of faith in their one and only daughter would somehow lighten me up. 

I was an extrovert (in my own ways) during college. I had tons of friends. Now, I’m not so sure anymore. I don’t care not having a love life as long as I have my circle of friends. I can live with that. But zero love and zero social life is just too much for me to bear. I can’t go out with friends without having them to pick me up at home. I can’t go out with friends whom my parents haven’t met. I can’t meet or even talk with the people whom my mother blame for getting me knocked up.

The list of I CAN’Ts goes on that I can’t even remember them anymore.

Yep. That’s pretty much how I describe my pathetic life. I have no one to talk to about it here so I’m writing it down to lessen the burden on my chest. 

I’m scared of getting used to this kind of life too much. 

I’m scared of saying these out loud because they might just bounce back at me.

I’m scared of being a lifeless person.

I’m scared of my impulsive self.

I’m scared of being bored who knows what I might do.

I’m scared of being able to hurt myself. 

I’m scared of ME.