fear and loathing.

He sighs.

Not for the first time, he wishes he has a remote control with a rewind button for his life. Not for the first time, he tastes the bitter sour of regret.

Not for the first time, he knows it's too late.

And all best intentions goes to waste.

The funny thing is, he doesn't recall what exactly happen. To be precise, what was it that made it all go wrong.

Nowadays, he hates waking up in the morning. And he hates being the only one awake in the cold of the night, alone and depressed.

Fetal formations are comfortable at first, but then it hurts your back later, he thinks.

He never saw it coming. Or perhaps, he was just over-confident. He's bitterly disappointed in himself. Though they tell him it's no use beating himself up over it now, that it won't fix anything, he can't help but wish it would. He can't stand the sight of his reflections in the mirror now either. His hollow eyes tells it all.

Either way, it doesn't matter now. All he can do is hope. And just keep going. Ignoring the fear that creeps. Ignoring the heavy weight of regrets.

He wishes for a magic bullet although he knows he shouldn't.


. Arigato .