I wanted to be true, to cast away the hypocritical alliances of thoughts, to stir my actions and wisdom together like those of a potion in a witch’s cauldron.

Maybe coming from a dysfunctional household was a curse added to the mix of tasteful—not-so-delightful—ingredients called being the first child.

An eldest daughter whose dreams soar higher than the clouds the naked eye could see. A woman whose achievements are never enough to quench the thirst and greed of being better. A life of a person with a little girl inside, still lost figuratively and literally.

I wonder, with all that I am, can I still manage to allow myself to be loved without getting afraid of the thought of it? I cringed, fingers curled, stomach upset, with the thought of getting embraced, of getting seen for who I truly am.

The desire to unshackle the invisible strings of unwanted fate, to step out of the box I drew myself in, and the urge to puke the unpalatable course of life-meal. To make it short, I desire to run away, and yet I loathe it more to see the ties I loved crumble.

I loathe just to imagine the series of the past repeating—the achingly unforgotten moments I wished weren’t our reality. Instead, I dream so high that I wanted to create a version of those wooden, dark, burnt, dimly lit candle moments with a brighter, refreshing, and no-fear-of-tomorrow bulb of fate.

I yearn for the scent of opium in the air, not the scent of a melting candle. But the thing is, it is here now—the things I yearned. Little by little, I could achieve the dream I had written in my old journal.

And yet, the past clings like a bitch. Funny and also true. Sometimes, I still feel like I am still the child near the melting candle. Sometimes, I feel like I am still the girl who writes like there is no tomorrow using literal pen and paper. Sometimes, I still feel like I am still the girl whose eyes were covered with nonstop tears.

Mayhap I couldn’t see myself in any relationship because there’s still a part unfulfilled. I feel the need to be better—to reach my full potential, to cover all the wounded, to earn the things I want on my own.

Or maybe, I was better left getting the stars for myself in the whole lifeline. If I were honest, I would rather live with no other than leave the world with dreams unachieved.