I have a lot of things that I love to do.
I love to sing, I love to write, I love to read, I love to socialize (to an extent), I love to watch movies, and eat everything gloriously deep fried.
But recently, I feel like the joy I feel in doing all these things has been rapidly slipping away, like someone’s poked a hole in all of them, and all the happy juices are leaking out. Either that, or a little part of me has chipped away, and enthusiasm is draining through the crack.
I want to quit. I want to quit UBC A Cappella, a club I’ve ached to join for so long. I want to drop out of university, the school I’ve been so studious for. I want to quit seeing people, and cut ties with everyone I know as though I have never known them. I want to hide, I want to cower, I want to wrap myself tightly and stare into darkness for so long that I’ve forgotten if my eyes are open or not.
I’m getting frustrated because all the things I have achieved have lost its significance to me. It’s frustrating because I’ve worked so hard to attain these goals, and once I’ve reached them, why is it that I become afraid of them?
I am afraid again. I am afraid of others and of my own skin, and I am angry at the joy I can’t keep.


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