With a starving condition, I write this. After the rain, dunno what to do in the house and my brother took away my freedom by playing his PS2 which is my turn. My best friend is going to her hometown, so the time that I usually spent with her has no use anymore. When she is not around, I don’t know where to go. Same like my life, I don’t know where to go.
This wanna-be-18 years old girl have so many self transformation. From a shy girl and has a really romantic affair with book and has no intention with social interaction, being a girl who always cry because of her broken heart and bad guy out there, to a really diligent student with ambition to be the first and the best-take a front seat in the class, then it’s me now, the rebel. For whole my life, I don’t know I will take this identity. But am I happy? I still don’t know. I am happy when whose I love here beside me. But when I am alone, who am I? I still can’t admit that it’s really me.
My affection to write is running out. Maybe because no more inspiration, or another pressure. When one word popped out in my mind, it’s just gone. I think, and I guess it’s because of now I write not for me. I write to show that I am the best in writing. I wanna make everyone happy, not me. That’s why, I am not running free. I can’t show who I am when it comes on the paper and pen in hand or in front of the computer with a hand on the keyboard.
Now, I wanna try to write for me. Once I had it. I don’t know how to find it back.
Sign, Dylandia Elfyza