a month on, and I still wonder if I have gotten anything done. I am still searching for the words to name my expressions, phrases and sentences that would give identity to my experiences and emotions, to create a platform for them to stand on upon which I would learn to understand myself. Only then could I learn to heal, or have the thought of forgiving myself even cross this long stricken mind.

a few things have happened. I have reacted and responded appropriately. but as with every external force that's happened in my life since that one fateful miracle on an evening of 2021, the underlying human beneath the decisions has remained the same, or so I think.

when I got accepted to my uni, I was shaking – it was such a game-changer, one that will define me for the rest of my life, I thought. my mental state changed, and my first two years of uni had been nothing but a blast. when I got accepted to this study program, THIS was, once again, going to be the saving grace that rid me of my own label, "a disgrace". the adventures I'm yet to have will force me to on a quest of soul-searching, I promised myself. if words could ever define my soul, then maybe i am on a soul-searching quest now. because the words are scattered across this dictionary and I am still going through it, hoping to find ones that will put my heart to ease in knowing this is a human experience – one that can be described and portrayed in the construct of language. hoping, that in the process, i'll find a way to reclaim a part of my lost self.

i wonder what I'm doing here, writing. maybe i'm losing myself with every word I write, maybe i've lost myself many years ago, a fading illusion of the self constructed by my delusions being the only thread keeping me together.