One thousand and twenty two days passed by. I can’t remember how it was. I can no longer feel the pain… half of the misery is gone. I’m alive. I survived. I journey along with this unspeakable story. Half untold and some part was considered to be true by some for I once live my life two-faced to appear good because I simply needed to. I settled hoping that someday I could find a good reason. Reasons that will make me appreciate my existence.
I departed from this life many times. One chapter from another—always hoping to have a good start but never ended as desired. I’ve been through to a lot of humiliation almost with the same old reasons. From pieces into pieces, I am—I was never mended and never been fixed. Broken identity I used to have and will always is. This is my story—the story I hated most.
One thousand and twenty two days counting to one thousand and twenty three in two hours. I was reminded by everything there was. One thing I realized is that the feeling of confusion lingered all this time. The hatred, the blame, and the regrets I had, and the forgiveness I longed is still with me. I want to be forgiven… I always wanted to forgive but then again I hate, I blame, and top of this I never learned to accept my failure.
I started a new chapter hoping to forget the other. In my hope that I could correct whatever is to be corrected from the previous. The major mistake I ever made. Until this time, I admit that I am not ready thus created conflicts one after another.
Someday, that early chapter of my life will end peacefully.