I am a rental flat. Where people come home to only when tired and has no other place to go. They don’t even call me home. I am just a place to spend the night, to soak the tiredness away from that body and to abandon by day.

I am a sun. That’s all I am. I give life that is taken for granted and blamed when the rebellious rain strikes. Too hot or too distant.

I am alone. And maybe that’s just how everyone is, too.

Used and useless.

When your feelings, your experiences and you become a minority. Honestly, nobody else cares.

And everyone thinks it is just your problem alone instead of asking how they can help or do better for you.

Because in the end, nobody cares about another person.

Always on the outside looking in.

The wrong gender. The wrong institution. The wrong crowd. The wrong behaviour. Wrong, wrong, wrong.



One person occupying time and space as a lone being. Perhaps, absorbed in one’s thoughts and the mind is up in its own imagined safe haven. Or just having one’s own physical space with no one within arm’s reach, no one to call out to and no one to look for. 

Too far away, or just not close enough. Physically, emotionally or spiritually. 

Is that what it means to be alone? 


Maybe it is true that one feels most alone in a room filled with people different than you are. Then again, ask yourself if you tried to not distance yourself, to not judge and to walk up to the closest one to say hello. 

Or stayed in your corner, dying a slow death yet refusing to leave. 


What happens when all your plans, friends and pretence leaves you?

Like when you have a break from what you called life at a different time from everyone else in your circle of friends. 

How do you feel? Can you address it? Are you willing to stay at home in your room and face it? 

I know I can’t. I am still learning. I am trying to get used to the sound of my own breathing and my body just lying still. Fingers, eyes, mind and legs not rushing to any destination or to complete any work.

Just existing. 

It is difficult when you struggle all your life, and define your existence with the struggles. That struggling might be the only mode you have left, and tiredness is the permanent adrenaline you run on. 


Slow down. 

But would the world slow down with me? 

Can I afford to slow down when I am already running out of breath to catch up?