Catharsis 0.015

I drew strength from heartbreak — something that happened many months ago. It was like fuel that set me ablaze. Every single thing I do, I did to make myself feel and be better. From scouting for a job, to reconnecting to people I’ve cut ties with, to disposing the need of validation from other people, I sought motivation from pain. The pain that killed me was the same pain that made me feel alive.

Like all fire, the pain faded. Slowly, but it did. What used to sting me was nothing more than a dull knife unable to pierce through. It didn’t hurt. Everything that put me down seemed to be a thing of the past. I was strong. No, I was invincible. At least, I chose to be. I chose not to get hurt by avoiding, evading every possible circumstance that would lead me to the past. I decided to move on.

Moving forward, however was another issue. With the fading of the pain meant dying of the fire. I had no motivation. It felt as if I lost some deeper purpose of why I wanted to get my act right. I was existing but not living.

The truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared of what tomorrow would bring. I’m scared of the unknown and of the unexpected. I’m scared because I feel lifeless and I no longer have the drive as strong as that of when there was still fire.

I am in search for the spark that would keep me going.