Falling apart is like a ticking bomb—a terrifying countdown of witnessing myself slowly fail until there’s no time left. I feel imprisoned inside a jail I made for myself; stuck in here, avoiding every possible bustling crowd I could encounter going out. I fail, for I feel chained to my own expectations, unable to break free and discover beyond what’s truly meant for me.

Back in the time, I used to envy silent sleepers for they seemed to live a quiet life. I wanted that. I used to. I had no problem with filling in silences during group talks and discussions. I would often cry out tears of laughter and joy. But when life seems to be in its visible spectrum, I realized that life in black and white exists, too. My life really took its turn; it was a disco, until it became a solitaire.

“It’s hard to be at a party

When I feel like an open wound”

Falling apart is the struggle of being wrapped in nothing but silence that comes with solitude, afraid to share to others what I have yet to battle. With the reality of having no one but a reflection of who I never expected myself to be, I suddenly felt the urge to shatter that reflection into pieces so then it’d look like a solved puzzle. Well, at the very least, it would look like it is complete. It would look like I am complete.

But then one snap is a slap of reality. Truth is undeniable; life falls apart in different ways. Falling apart is like a downpour of rain that comes to life in the most unexpected times, and in the most unexpected ways. But the sun does rise, you know.

And the rain will stop, that’s for sure.