Under the Smoke of Capri

Last night, I was trying to find a safe place again, a place where I could hide and have a temporary peace of mind. But I failed. Instead, I found myself crying slowly. Too afraid to something I didn't even know. Or perhaps it wasn't fear that I felt. Maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was pain. Maybe I was hurt. Maybe I am hurt.

Sometimes, I don't understand myself anymore. One moment, I have this drive to do anything, to talk to someone, to feel free. The next moment, I become oversensitive and vulnerable. Then, I gradually lose focus on what I've been doing. And that's the time when I hate myself. It makes me feel that I am weak. That I am alone. That people changed. But I am not weak. Neither I am alone. And I do not want people to change. Whenever I think about these thoughts, my heart disintegrates into pieces--- bit by bit.