Three nights have passed since I left Auckland.
There was no sense of excitement, only a weariness that has been lingering since the middle of the year, following me back home.
Eversince my brother passed away, I have been avoiding any conversations relating to his last moments of life.
Everytime my mother started the topic on the phone, I will immediately simmer her down, not wanting to broaden the conversation any further.
My daily life has been filled with fulfilling but empty colours of university.
Assignment -> relax -> food -> relax -> allowance -> photography -> Japanese -> Education -> Jackie -> Sheryll -> coffee -> anime
I was exhausted with trying to exhaust myself.
But coming back home, everything was sepia in colour. The only figure that never failed to pick me up everytime was no longer there.
My mother herself was losing apparent amount of weight, looking very exhausted, but smiling widely to me nonetheless.
Reality has grabbed me harshly by the hands.
Part of me longs for those empty colours of life, but a part of me longs to face this reality head-on.
And I don't want to run away.
The me who was telling my mother to always be strong might be the weakest one after all.
And I know that for sure when I have been shedding drops after drops of tears everytime my mother talks about my late brother.
I'm tired, lost, scared but at the same time, generously blessed.
I will face this.
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