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The desire rose again. The desire to let my emotion out through ink is within me again. Well, it’s better this way as pushing myself to write—without passion, without love.

I’ve been talking to myself the past few days or weeks rather, not with a mirror, but with a blank sheet of paper on my lap. I wanna use some ink to articulate what is it within me, but then, no words came. I’m having again these weird moments of my existence.

Honestly, what I’ve felt is not an emptiness but loneliness. (I know I’m not the only one who’s has felt this way.) I feel like the world is not with me though it is not against me. Seems puzzling right? I guess it’s better this way: I feel like I’m outside this world—out of place in this world. It’s like I’m an alien beside the people around me. They’re not talking about me, I know. They just, somehow, exclude me in their circle. They must be thinking that I can’t ride on to what they’re into nor acquiesce what their planning if ever they have one. Maybe, they are correct with those thoughts and maybe, not.

All the thoughts and alike and sentiments of being out of place washed over me. Then, I woke up. I woke from this bad dream that almost swallowed me. If this dream could have a title, I would entitle it “SELFISHNESS”. As you see and probably realized since the beginning of this nonsense piece, all I was thinking was myself and nothing more but myself. I think of my personal gain from others—happiness, identity, approval —my worth. I was only thinking of me, myself and I. Nothing more, nothing less. It was the other me, the pessimistic me, who fed me up with notion of being alone, thus isolating myself from the people around.

As I open my eyes, I saw me with them. As I open the eyes of my heart, I saw me with them with an embrace, a laugh and a love. I saw real people being themselves painting on my face a smile—real friends. And as I laugh out loud, I notice the sky—high, wide and long. I realized that I am not forgotten, I was not alone. I won’t be alone. Though I feel like there was no one else beside me, I was definitely in His hands. He covers me with His hands. The unfathomable sky was His hands. His palm was His love, a place of love where eternal joy can come from. His love was my home, my true home. His love is where I belong.