I thought I've had everything under control. I thought I've got it right this time. "Oh how nice it feels to breathe again.” – was what I said as I exhaled the heavy air off my lungs. But somehow, I still feel heavy inside. Something just keeps tangling onto my veins, tugging on my heart, making my heart race – and not in those ways you read in a fairy tale. Have I been living in denial? Telling myself I'm moving on, that I've got my heart harder and strong. Though in reality, it's crumbling down like an aftermath of an earthquake while you were quietly asleep. It happens so suddenly, so naturally yet you are unprepared of it. Regardless it had happened twice, or too many times before. It just keeps on shaking you - ferociously and mercilessly, until all you had are swept away by the wind leaving you with no roof to shelter onto. Once more, you are force to build a new home – a roof for you to take shelter from another quake. No grace period was given for you to take time and absorb the remains of water that was left for you on the pavements. It was already time for you to go. To a new place with new faces, - everything was new, but not you. You are still stuck in the past.  Stuck on what you had and what was left. Stuck on what you once knew and what you now don’t. A familiar name, a different face. A different place a larger empty space. A space so empty and vacant, you could run for rounds and it’ll still feel as though you have not come pass the first round. No running to another escape. Too little too late, to realize that you are now stuck, between the start and the end.

“Guess I’m still here waiting.”