Memories

Ghosts of the past...

Back to haunt me...

Just as I thought everything was long since dead and buried six feet under...

Only to have memories flood back like a very painful caleidoscope of colours...

And through it all having to pretend because I had to help a friend get over her ghosts from the past...

Being relied on, it's not called heroism it's called putting on a facade when everything comes crashing back down on you...

Heroism is when someone goes on day after day without breaking down even when he or she has lost everything there is...

Am I called a hero then?

Can you call someone who had her own ghosts from the past haunt her just because her friend, seeking for help, accidentally evoked them?

Obviously not.

I shall now learn that the study room: though having a conducive study environment is not that best place for me. Especially not with those cubicles that give too much privacy and is too good at locking out every single thing from the world out.

And it doesn't help that my other friends in my room were sitting far far away from me, conspiring something and keep on pushing me away...

I've learnt to deal with these ghosts and the hurt they evoke... it's deeply etched and yet buried in my heart...

Then why is it then sitting there in the cubicle, while advicing someone else with such a cool face...

I can still feel the pathetic urge to cry helplessly?