Losing Hope, and Grip.

As I drive home, tears run down my cheeks. I almost feel the weight of my skin over me, and my head starts to numb, and so as my heart. I am caressed by the strong winds of early December nights, with its pleasant coldness that wraps me, but in discomfort.

I drove fast, as my body and face meets the cold air that didn't care most, as if the strength of both hands and the speed are both oblivious to me.

I was aware I was crying hard, and long. My breath is in tension, as if I couldn't grasp for the air that's more than enough for me to take.

I pitied myself for trusting a love ideal. I pitied myself for trusting my heart, again.

As I drove fast, I didn't even noticed the small groups of people on the side of highways looking at my ill-fated face, my melancholic but angst-looking facade, with the tears flowing freely from outside, and inside my heart.

I hated it. I hated everything that surrounds me that night. It was the moment I never wanted to happen again... or the moment, I expected not to happen again. I can see the city streets, and they all reminded me of the few sacrifices I've made like strolling downtown, spending time with the one I loved the most, or even driving on rainy season in wet clothes.

I almost can't believe I loved this way. I can't believe it's all happening to me now, and it's all happening again. I came asking as I drive. Why can't I be happy? Why has love been too unfair and greedy to me? Why am I living like this? -- WHY AM I LIVING?

The last time I knew, I loose grip over my motorcycle in a speed of 80 kilometers per hour, and freeing myself from below, leaving my motorcycle in somewhere away from my body as it lies with me in nowhere. I see people around me, and I just lied down, feeling the waters and mud, imagining I've died and now raising up to the sky, greeting the air and the stars around.

I was brought to the hospital, for the first time through some unknown and good people, and I woke up with the face of my sister smiling at me with her eyes in extreme pity of me.

Nobody knew what exactly happened and what the reason is of driving fast that night was. Only you, readers are the ones who know this. I asserted I was drunk, but I really was not as the doctor was saying.

But I never wished to die. I maneuvered the motorcycle so as not to hurt myself more. I want to give myself a lesson, physically hurt myself a little because If I cry more and more, I'm only hurting my heartbreak-shattered heart -- and I know my body can take it longer, but my heart can't.

Perhaps, I've gone numb of all these and this time, after the fateful accident, I'll never love again.