I came the closest I've ever been to hyperventilation and total pass out. It is all because of a bad habit of mine. That is, unleashing my frustration in an imaginary, but bloody, explosive, and violent confrontation with the people who cause me the pain.
I began looking back at my childhood and how I came to be the pathetic person that I am. I know that throughout my childhood I had never imagined my life to be like this. It almost feels like Fate had tied me to a dungeon wall, and hung my freedom, by a thin thread, just outside of my reach, mocking me everyday as I strive desperately to grab hold onto my sanity.
For every imaginary outburst, I grabbed onto my chest to stop it from pounding too hard while I maintained a breathing consistency. My eyes burnt red from the bitter-salty tears that forces its way out. I tried not to attract attention. And it seemed successful. But why should I be surprised? No one gives a shit in the first place. I tried to persuade my mind not to think about it, but it seemed I was meant to persuade my heart instead. All those tiny fragments that have been ignored for all those years. I started to breathe hard again, I fought myself again and again, "Jackey, what kind of man are you?" An excellent question indeed.
While I struggled to keep cool all day, I thought to myself:
Happy Birthday Jackey ...