I finally finished it.

I went to tuck myself in bed after carrying her into hers.

I could see the morning lights seeping in…

And then, I suddenly just teared.

I am not sure if it is relief, or disappointment.

I finally done it. All by myself. Without the intended help I wanted to get, without the encouragements I used to have.

From aimless, to self-doubt, to helplessness, to do or die.

I told someone few days ago, to me, it isn’t about getting it, or not. It is about the process, piecing myself back together. To somehow find it within me, to break out of it.

The process.

It is not about me not needing anyone. It is about me… to find something within myself.

I always do with with companions, with coaching, with people, with encouragement, with help in a form or another(okay, babysitting doesn’t count. Thank you, once again).

I tried asking. But my ideas in mind can’t form into words as I am becoming lousy with verbalising and there was nothing much that could be helped.

Maybe it was a test. That.. somehow, the Greater Power agreed that I must be pushed.

It is not great. I still can’t get much out of my head, and at this time, coupled with a badly exhausted body and mind, and my inability to express… it is no good.

It is not long. But I see pictures in my head, and I know I have done, in a way, to my best that I could squeeze out of myself.

And with that thought in my mind, I just can’t stop tearing.

I was scared. The anxiety must be the culprit why I talked so much last night.

I was scared. I am scared. When I received the email, I cried. It was a feeling of isolation of having no one to turn to.

Now. It is the same feeling of isolation. Like a frightened child not wanting to make a wrong step out, and that every painting drawn will be deemed ugly.

And now, even with completion. It is becoming like a love letter I am refusing to send out.