Letters through the dark night

Letter 3

"Alone in this world... It's easy to get lost. But being surrounded by people makes the path to oblivion much easier."

To be honest, I think we're all alone in this frail body of ours.

We're all alone in our deepest of our minds, among the dense population, among the vast galaxy.

Maybe it's just me.

I don't know.

But sometimes I think I've already had enough of it.

You see, there are those people there, crowding around you, bustling back and forth 24/7, doing the same thing over and over again. Occasionally, you might hear some interesting gossip, some rumor or some backstabbing friends or some utter nonsense or reckless sayings.

Sure, you might be somewhere in the crowd, looking and waiting for your train to come. People walking back and forth, your friends and family chatting amongst one another - with you, frequently talking among your close ones but... it's all empty talk.

Nothing is ever truly said.

And then once they leave... You're back to our own self in your own world in your own oblivion, masked carefully within your features so that you look like everyone else. So that you fit in.

But really, all you're doing is just observing.

And then there comes a point you just look at that middle-aged lady, or that young boy surrounded by friends, and then you realize just a peak of what lies beneath their eyes.

You see the loneliness, the sadness - perhaps a slight happiness, but it's there.

Or maybe it's just a figment of my imagination.

At the end, all I've had was people coming into and out of my room, leaving me in my room at the upmost neutrality. Surrounded by my darkest secrets, blooming hatred and revenge - and sadness.

Perhaps I've hidden myself all too well.

After all, the farthest they've gone into my room is just a mere little step.

Perhaps... I didn't want my room to be a mess like it was before when I let them in.

I didn't want to see the shattered glass, hear the agonizing screams, touch the blood-stained floor - the world has already become a mess. I can't afford my room to be just like the outside.

It's already gone on too long - my room has been neat, a few people coming by and out. People shouting, screaming, complaining all of them I've seen, I've experienced.

It's all the norm.

Except I do my screaming and shouting and complaining and crying inside because I didn't want to get caught up in the tidal waves of catastrophe.

No wait - I don't scream, shout, complain, cry anymore do I?

No... that was a long time ago.

I suppose I've denied myself the ability to so much as utter a single word that will bring the shattered building down, crashing on top of all of us.

That's the beauty of being alone in your room.

The likelihood of mass injury is diminished to only me - lost among the piles of dirt and broken heart and mind.

What I've learnt outside has eventually seeped in me, slowly into my room. I can't stop it. I can only try and postpone it.

Nobody can ever leave loneliness.

We created it ourselves because we're just all to easily manipulated, scratched, moved, sought - you can never be too careful in this laid out society of madness and darkness. Anyone can hurt you, you can hurt anyone. I don't trust anybody now, because I suppose I've done enough hurt on enough people I don't trust myself now either. So now I bear all the scars I deserve. I let them walk in because I know I should give it a shot, but society now has diminished my hope again and I let them down again and they let me down again and the cycle goes on as I get the bruises I deserve -