Black Mood

I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top. ~John Keat

Dear Blog,

You’ve been staying with me for quite some time now and I truly appreciate your company. For one thing, you have provided me with a means to keep track of my progress in life, which I would say, is rather gloomy of late. Frankly, I would say this is the worst year I’ve had so far.

As I browsed through my previous entries, I noticed that I’ve been ranting a lot. Although I’ve promised myself not to always wallow in unhappiness, or, at the very least, not to discuss too much about it, there comes certain times when the bucket of sorrow is inevitably filled to its brim. That, I know is rather unhealthy if left unaddressed.

There is no other way for me to express myself. Neither is there anyone whom I can trust to be my confidant. Thus, once again, I’ve come to you to share my despair.

I know that life has got its ups and downs so don’t repeat to me that platitude. Nevertheless, how I wish I could beg for mercy and be freed from this mortal suffering. I don’t like to feel like a weakling or, needless to say, to be one. But it is just so frustrating that it really brings to such a situation.

The exam is just around the corner and no doubt, the air is getting tense as pressure is builds up. Unfortunately, I still bear with me those despised mental burdens which I could not rid of. Worse still, the frustration gets amplified when triggered by certain incidents.

I don’t feel like coming home. The return journey seemed to take a shorter time than it typically does despite the fact that I was driving only a little above 50km/h on a road where I can usually breach 80km/h. Of course, driving at such a speed was like testing the patience of the other drivers that I unconsciously drove the emergency lane. How I wish I could stay longer in the traffic jam; how I wish the road stretches longer; how I wish I could be left alone, away from the judgments and the comments of the others.

Of all colours, I used to dislike black as I deemed it to be so dead and unlively. Only those with dark, gloomy moods would choose to wear black. But now, I think I’ve fallen into the category. I’m starting to view black as a colour that offers me comfort; I’m starting to wear black. It camouflages me from the rash world outside. I just want to blend into the background, unseen; I just want to be at some place where I don’t have to keep my feelings all to myself. Solace seems like an easy way out.

For some reasons, I had a hunch it would turn sour. But still, I chose to remain in denial. So, here I am, feeling all down. Humph! Serves me right!

Envy is by no means a luxury which I have the right to indulge in, considering my position. Yet, I am ashamed to tell that I can’t seem to let go of the mental burden. Who says Librans are rational? That’s rubbish. If I have been rational, things wouldn’t have gone this way.

To let go – that’s the only solution for my current quagmire. But can I succeed if it is against my will to do so?