The return to camp for Aqis bag inspection, marked the day I became severely moody. People have been taking me and my ego for granted. They believe that their rude remarks and insults have no effect on how I feel. I should be damned to even care for the people who do not give me the courtesy of respect.

I am beyond tired of returning to the asylum in my mind that houses emptiness and great melancholy; the place I called home when I was 14 and there I remained within the shadows for four long years. I learnt to let people in far enough to create shallow bonds. Should they ever leave or turn against me, I needn’t feel pain.

Why take a chance on humanity when the only thing you receive in return is hurt…

Logen L.

I miss you so much but you will not know it. I care too much about your life and your privacy. And therein lies the reason for behaving as uninterested as I have been.

Truth be told, I want to know more about your life, your likes, your wants, your dislikes and your fears. Yet, I have not asked. I am taking this too seriously, am I not? I am a freak… A sad freak…

Logen L.

I might seem cold and practical to you. You might find it hard to build rapport with me, and I believe you have given up. In my defense, it is in my affection for you that I’ve built a wall. I now know its a tad bit unnecessary and I’ve been bleeding paranoid.

Even then, there’s someone else. I know there is.

I feel stupid for feeling this way about you. I am an idiot. I let my emotions get involved.

But how not to when I’ve observed how tenderly and playfully you treat your friends. How not to when I’ve witnessed your cavalier and carefree spirit. How not to, when I’ve tasted your lips.

Logen L.

Time and time again, I question the wherefores of my existence. Within this eternal struggle of ego tussles and prejudice, the want of a happy life is but a childish dream.

I subconsciously push people away at times, as I feel no purpose to have emotional attachment to family and friends. One day, they will leave. Some will leave due to the law of impermanence that governs this world. Others will choose to leave. Of the latter, I will feel the pain of abandonment. And it is this pain, which I prefer to prevent.

Do I love the people whom I love (and will come to love) despite my denial of attachment? Yes I do. Am I fiercely loyal to these people? Yes I am. But perhaps drifting away is for the better.

The essence of my being is clandestine and hence a life of secrecy and ambiguity.

Where will the future take me?

Logen L.

I wish I was normal. The common folk don’t get picked on, taunted nor disrespected. I don’t like the pain. I want to have someone I can call my own and this someone can help weather some of my burden. But I’m a broken person. Who would want someone like me? Who would want a burden?

I merely want to have a place in this world; to know I have an equal opportunity to live my life happily. But no… They just cannot leave me alone. I must constantly be on guard against invalidation that cuts over old scars.

Since, I cannot be at peace, I will make sure to drag those responsible into the very same abyss I have drowned in. I will make sure they will not breathe. I will make sure they will be blind and lose sight of a happy life.  I want them to struggle, to slowly die in paranoia and desperation; no escape.

I cannot be the noble person anymore. He has died.

The numbness between the great bouts of melancholy relieves me temporarily of the pain and grudge. With a knack to censor my thoughts and words, my true feelings become confused with ambiguity. I don’t even know the wherefores of my pain because I fear the reality of what I will see.

I need companionship; a listener who is unbiased by his or her judgments. I need to know what I have been doing wrong to deserve this. I need the courage to stand up to the undeserved crap. My god has crumbled beneath the pressure. And I am sinking slowly back into the abyss of depression, which I escaped from 4 years ago.

I remember the Logens I have killed and re-awakened from the ashes. But it seems, this time, the ashes are mere ashes; the relic of the depressed teenager who was once teased and taunted.

Please grasp on to my hand (if I even matter to you). I don’t want to fall any further.

Logen