something I wrote last month. it seemed fitting to publish it today. depressed words, perhaps I am the only one to understand the hidden meaning there.
I would not have spent so much time trying to justify my actions to other people if it wasn’t for the treat of being completely alone. I don’t fear loneliness, I am just tired of it. Hong Kong is closing in on me. The streets are too familiar, the people too annoying. Weather does not improve with summer months, quite on the contrary. Rain wears me out as well as the grey skies that are a constant this period of the year. It seems as if the imaginary piece of China is not enough for me anymore. I dream of fresh air, I dream of different waters. I dream of foreign languages and dialects, which I had never heard of before. I dream of hot, dry air and endless stretches of savannah before me. Wildlife and green jungles as opposed to never-ending concrete of the City of Tomorrow. Or perhaps, it’s too late for that. The increasing influx of Mainlanders in the last couple of years have destroyed all and any remaining hope for this harbor. It stopped being an idealist city a long time ago. There is nothing left here.
The corrupt system is wiping out all that is important to me. It strips down all the beauty and simplicity that we are hoping for. Everything that we long for, everything that we want disappears in the fog with each day. It drifts away farther and farther away from us and no matter how hard we tried to cling onto the nearest paramount of despair it just doesn’t happen. We are left alone in the middle of the night, nearing the dawn of the end. When we say goodbye, we hope the next day when we wake up life will not be so difficult, but both of us, we know that nothing is going to change in such a short period of time. We are bringing each other down now, killing everything alive inside us in the process. Soon there will be nothing left and then it will be too late. It will be too late.
It has been one year since the weekend; since the execution of a decision that would change my life forever. That would change me in ways that I hadn’t expected. In ways that I was hoping could be possible to avoid. The self-destructive state of mind that followed in the coming months was nothing like I ever went through before. I began to loathe the city, but could not bring myself to leave. The only thing more impossible than disappearing was staying in the same momentum. But here I am. Nothing has changed, nothing is different even though twelve months have passed. But nothing is different. Except for myself. Whoever I used to be before; the only remains consist of broken pieces of an empty shell. Like a cracked mirror that can never mended back together.
The cracks will always remain. The emptiness is no longer a friend. It became a parasite of my insides, of my mind. Eating me alive with each breath I take. Further diminishing everything I have ever known into nothingness. There is no way back anymore. It doesn’t exist.