*trigger warning*

In a week, 2022 will end.

God, I wish this torture would end soon. Unfortunately, after a while, I realised that 

it's only going to get worse.

I realised that, for the past two years, prominently, after my grandma's death, escaping.

Escaping from my grief, escaping from the hurt as my whole world crumbles, as everyone leaves me one by one. I prefer pretending that everything is fine, when I have to wake up not knowing when the next war is going to erupt, waking up occasionally not wanting to face today, waking up at a state where I want to escape forever.

It took me two heartbreaks, two major failures and thousands of constant fights to realise that I have been on the clouds. I'd choose to float any day than be pegged on the ground, because it is so darn uncomfortable to face the truth. I float with the help of my device covered in neon pink. I float by posting stories in hopes that the intended audience would reply. I float by watching k-pop performances wishing I had a body like theirs while binge-eating french fries. I float by procrastinating from the uncomfortable work I'm meant to do, which will lead to even more problems which require escaping.

I wanted to wait until next year to slowly bring myself to the ground. But I'm tired of feeling the pain. I know what they are saying about me. "She shouldn't have any excuse to her failure." "Did you know she failed and now she's leaving?", words they say as a conversational starter. 

People can say what they want to say. They don't see me take out the scissor towards my wrist the day before the exam. They don't see me cry for help, only for it to be invalidated and be accused of not praying harder. They don't see me begging on my knees for forgiveness just because I forgot to take the laundry out. They don't see me tolerate words that ruin me again and again.

It's okay, they know nothing.

This time, I am genuinely lowering myself to the ground, and face the discomfort. I'm starting now, because what's the point of setting goals if it's not sustainable, and if it only allows you to procrastinate over and over again?

This time, I won't do things to prove them wrong. I will do all these for me.

Someone once told me that I need to work on my insecurities. He's right, this insecurity led to this fear of failure, a self-fulfilling prophecy. This insecurity led me to the need to feed off validation to those who gave me attention. This insecurity is what made me have imposter syndrome that darkens my cloud, allowing people to continue stomping all over me. This insecurity is what led me to be on the clouds all the time.

It ends today.