n y c t o p h i l i a

p r o l o g u e

I had never chosen my life to be like this. I never wanted my parents to die. I never wanted to be teased around in school for the past five years.

I had never wanted anything.

Just a simple life.

But what the hell. That's what life is.

It's a highway. And on that highway, there is a bus. The Depression Bus. The bus drives on this never ending highway known as Life. And there are many other cars driving alongside it. These cars are people. They are different colours, different shapes and different sizes. All of them are driving on the highway. And people in the Depression Bus. All just sitting there, on the seats, thinking about life decisions or their problems.

You might be wondering, where am I on the highway?

I'm in the Depression Bus. I don't give a shit about my life. I just sit in it and let it drag me to wherever.

Because I once was a happy person. Someone with no problems, someone with a family. And most importantly, someone who was loved.

But that being changed, I am now different.

I smoke, I drink, I cut myself once every week. And I like the colour black. Because it defines me. I like having straight hair that covers my face, concealing me from the world. I like sitting at the back of the class and not saying a single word. I like wearing eyeliner. I like pale skin.

That's just who I am.

Apparently, based on the social hierarchy, I'm classified as an Emo.

And I like it.