Maybe the reason why I stop talking that much to people is mainly because before they can even open their mouths, I already know what they’re going to say. Or close to. What I mean is that, years of observing people, analyzing them, knowing and understanding their behaviors and attitudes, made them…boring. They don’t excite me anymore. I mean, I was and will always be a curious creature, an inquisitive one who always wanted to know something, anything I can get my hands on but, as I’ve mentioned earlier, people become a boring creature. Or the world? The environment? Or is it me being “smart” as what, most of the time, people refer me to be, suck the happiness out of them, of knowing and talking to them. Maybe it is of me that they become boring. I observe them way too much that their actions or reactions don’t bother the hell out of me anymore. It feels like, me looking to life is just like watching the same movie or reading the same book for the umpteenth time but unlike movies or books, life no longer excites me. I don’t even remember when’s the last time I got so excited it makes me jittery. Or makes my heart beats too fast not because of anxieties or anything but because I’m excited. I miss being excited. I miss being real. I miss being the past, whom people usually wanted to remember. I miss being the rainbow who, people looks forward to after the rain. Okay okay, I was never afraid of oblivion, of not being remembered, I mean I want people to just notice the “me” right now and not the “me” that they’ve known before. I want them to just see and recognize me for who I am. And then, life exhausted me. Like royally. And I’m so tired of trying because, I know life and people will continue to disappoint me. And I will continue to disappoint me too and as much as I hate to say this but, I am really disappointed in myself for a long time now and I’m not even doing anything about it because again, why and for what? I’m burned out. And I don’t know a way out and I don’t even want an escapee route. I really think I’m done. But, well, I’ll carry on. I’m a coward yes, but I have conscience. And also, I have inflicted way too much pain to people’s asses I don’t want to add another suffering. And the world is too much, and I’m too much I’m already bursting out, piece by piece, but I’ll carry on. I’ll carry on even if it’s mean I’ll have to kill myself everyday, I’ll carry on.