There was an itch somewhere in my head that triggered me to make this entry. For once, I imagined myself being independent, stepping aloft the cold surface of this world through my own feet. I imagined spending a lot of money I earned by my own sweat and labor. I imagined my whole life living not depending on my family’s income or decisions and/or with my friends’ opinions. For once, I imagined myself embracing the real me – the one who I long to become. But imaginations are far from reality, and there is no power in this world that I can use to teleport myself into my made-up world.
Last 18th November of this year I just turned 20. Until now, I’m still wrapping myself in a blanket I do not recognize my own. I’m still as dependent individual as who I was these past twenty years. I’m still concern on what others might think about my actions or me as a whole, and it’s suffocating. I depend still with the decisions my family makes and feel afraid of disobeying them. I’m trapped, but it feels worse. I don’t know. It’s as if being in the eye of a labyrinth and I can’t find my way out.