I guess my light have just dimed out, for awhile. It could be a signal, a reflex of the emptiness I happen to be. I spend hours after hours with a train of thoughts in my head, a train I either cannot take or stop. I feel the best of me slowly slipping from my reach, but I can only hopelessly observe. It seems like I have become a spectator of my own existence, waiting for it to end, in the murkiest way possible. The Me I once knew is fading away, as leaves wither and drop off from a tree on autumn, my sensitivity and my emotions are leaving to somewhere I don’t know. I am becoming someone I don’t know and it is unpleasant not to recognize yourself anymore. Now lies a stranger in my own body, another mind-set has established itself. Have I gone thicker or number? I cannot tell. But even all through these brittle moments of callous self-consciousness where I only stare a feral, grayish and unending landscape, there’s still an almost imperceptible dull glowing at the very end. It beckons me, so candidly, begging me to trust it’s not over yet; that I can find ways to mend myself. What to do then? I’ll hold onto it till I can be strong enough to brave this storm, until I can see my star shining brightly once more, sparkling away every tear of sorrow, regret, frighten and uncertainty.