when you're all argumentative. and you've got the face on.

my only faithful means of escaping feels foreign right now. I stare back at my work and I wonder how did I ever manage to get to this, from wherever I was last year, when I was aware of what I was doing and I was unfazed by pressure because I knew I could do it. and I did. I did it with conviction, because I knew who I was back then and there were little worries. in this mental picture I see myself being 18, thumping my chest and proudly declaring to everyone else, no fear. you do not see the look I have on my face right now, oh no. what I have at age 19 is a look of exhaustion.

I am amazed at how drained I can be on such beautiful mornings. isn't it fascinating how one can be so vibrant and upbeat only when she is distracted and therefore detached? if I dwell too much into any sort of emotion, I only get exhaustion in return. it is tiring. and I feel older than who and what I should be.

Dad says only one thing to me: always love what you do. he never said I should quit something if I didn't like it- I managed to conclude that he only wants joy in his daughter's life even if it means trying to see the good in monotonous activities. for example, cleaning my room. every weekend he tidies up the house, but he makes it fun cos he sings these really dusty, cheesy songs with awful lyrics and it is only because I know he's happy that makes me want to join in too. I love my father even when he doesn't say much to us. because he's quiet, he's calm and he's so mature. I trust him.

the only problem with all this is that I wonder what happens when the day comes that I lose all my faith in writing. will I try to love it again or will I just give up like I am known to do.