I just thought it’ll be good to get back into the groove and start writing about something. Something which hopefully can help define who I was when I look back and read these entries, some time in the future. And I think writing stuff will really help me feel better about things.
It always feels wrong to complain about what you lack when you know you do have a lot in life already. It just really feels like… the older you get, the less friends you have. There’s always this pit of emptiness. Like hi independence, it’s a bit too much. Is this some sort of price to pay for growing up?
I miss the days in a classroom. All the way back to when you have to share your crayons and everyone colours the same picture. And I strangely remember this time when the teacher commented on how a classmate should not have coloured the floor black, few minutes after I told my friend it’s ok. Cos… sometimes the floor really is black, right? And I remember not remembering whether the clouds or the sky should be blue. But I always coloured the clouds blue anyway, cos there’s less surface area. It’s… cute, how those simple thoughts evolved into something like this. Into paragraphs, more complex issues, which I’m also unsure if they are important or not.
I never knew that life is actually that lonesome. I don’t know if that made sense. Because it sounds weird. Like, yeah, your life, you’re kind of the only one living it, so one person. Maybe it’s just that pit of emptiness at work.