07:00 p.m.
I put my hands inside the pockets of my coat. It is a cold Christmas Eve and I'd be spending it alone. I held my car keys in my hand, not knowing where I'm supposed to go. But I have one clue though, and it is that tonight, I am searching for a permanent escape — different from such activities like self-harming, smoking weed, fucking in sex clubs, or drinking alcohol.
No, I'm looking for something innocent and pure that will give me the taste of true freedom.
I was supposed to take my anti-depressant pills, but I started to grow sick of its taste. I'd rather not.
Down this city, I drive under the glow of the city lights.
08:31 p.m.
My mind ended up with the thought of innocent children. At this time, most of them must be asleep already. I remembered being scolded whenever my mother caught me still awake in 9:00 p.m.
I wish for the youth's future. I wish for it be good and bright and beautiful, so that they may save us from all the crimes and danger the world may bring. Mine is broken, and I guess it will never be fixed.
There is a motto, "Children are the hope of the future."
And indeed, I believe in them.
10:29 p.m.
I don't know where this "escape" road trip is ending up. It might be a waste for all I know. I might be returning to my boring and meaningless life routine — skipping therapy sessions, overdosing marijuana, eat junk foods, and sleep. It's been almost three and a half hours driving and wasting gasoline.
I pass by my favorite place of being wasted, Just Tonight. The name of it is ironic considering that everyone who comes in, kept always coming back.
I know I am searching for something new, but the thought of a temporary escape haunts me.
The club is full of sweaty, crowding bodies. People who are probably just as isolated and blue like me.
The thing about alcohol is that everything becomes invisible, including your burdens, sadness and worries. You do not care as if no one is watching you. Your mind can wander anywhere, anywhere you'd like to be. You will feel ecstatic because you can be the person you always wanted to be.
It's like dreams and imaginations — beautiful and alluring. Yet you can never escape the slap of reality's consequences and inevitable misfortunes.
As I made my way to the bar, I held back the tears threatening to escape.
And I don't know why.
11:02 p.m.
I go back to my car with my head throbbing, even with just a few number of shots. Damn it, I didn't bring my pills or even some pot.
I suffer from depression, but the voices now are softer whispers, but their power to control over myself is stronger than me.
I remember my mom who used to be patient with me. She used to feed me and tuck under me the warm bed sheets. She was the only person I am sure who loves me.
