Scared. Scarred. Scarce.

Three words. One source. SCAR. A scar is formed when a skin is bruised. When we we're kids, we get SCARED. A wounded heart gets SCARRED when our sorrows overwhelm us. We fear of no one to turn to, no bandage for cover, no place to hide, in turn, SCARCITY of the soul threatens us and SCARCITY reveals our limits.

I am scared of who I am. I'm scared, most times, to be true or honest. I hide, even to the depths where no one knows I exist. I wear the mask of obscurity, of dishonesty. Who am I lying but myself.

When all things have turned into baggages, I search and find ways/times that I could express and be real with myself and with the world. I find the internet. I keep a blog where I can fully express myself, good or bad times. I keep another vlog (youtube) which I can use when I view videos that relate well with me and comment those videos without restrictions. I am free...but only for a time and always not enough.

I am scared to be true no matter how much I want to be. I am scared because I fear nobody likes the real me. I am lost and still seeking a time that I can real. I have thought of going to places where people living there do not know me. Finding a place where I can start over because I find this place corrupt already and I have bad memories of it.

I live in my fantasy, in my own world. Most times, I want to learn new things out on the open, the real world. But I always stumble to the wrong side of the world, I would then end up in my own imagined reality.

Where am I? What am I doing here? Am I just imagined or another reality gone lost?

This scar of confusion has lost me. Yet I still want to be real but I'm scared because I am confused of what is real.

I am 21 but not. My brother is more mature, emotionally, than I am. Decision making, it overwhelms me. Responsibilities, it pressures me. Relatedness, in relation to people, it bothers me.

Let me just say, "It is the world that is always turning around and not me." (I know you'd disagree but let it be.)