*For therapeutic purposes only.

Realization hits. I haven't bothered updating for around a month or so, and being here again feels awkward all of a sudden. It's as if my fingers are poised over the keyboard, prepared to whip out a month of updates - and yet, I have no idea where to start.

Where do I begin - would it be from the beginning, or the ending?

Perhaps it is because that I haven't been writing that I've been feeling so off. Combine that with a truckload of incidents, a bulk of unwanted stress, and a girl that isn't that great in dealing with things (even though she claims she's fantastic as can be) - and - there you go, it's Calamity.

With a capital C.

Honestly, do I have any right to complain?

It started out with the severe insomnia. My sleep cycle had always been a bit rampant, but as the examinations approached, they entered into a state of turmoil.

Severe. Insomnia. With. Traits. Of. Depression. Which. Caused. Anxiety. And. Panic. Attacks.

Well, that was what the doctor said.

It wasn't exactly a picnic, and I felt worse for the wear. It was then when I realized the true importance of sleep, and that I've been hurting my body for many, many years by getting only a mere three to four hours of sleep per day, even in the holidays. And then when the insomnia struck and I could get no sleep at all, the outcome was simple.

I shut down.

Not severely, thank goodness, but I was pretty damn close to that. My mind did, though - and some parts of my physical self as well. Due to the lack of sleep, other conditions like my scoliosis suddenly also just seemed to manifest its normally-well-hidden-pain within. My eyes were strained - not the sort of straining after twenty hours of computer, but the sort where you know that if your eye pressure raises a little too much and oops, you're going to go blind. That sort of strain.

I felt like I was thrown back to my Form Two days where I was more than just a little loopy. Thoughts that I have never had for a long time sprang to life, threatening to choke me in its darkness once again. I couldn't seem to breathe and my heart seemed to be constricting against itself.

It was the anxiety attacks, and I was definitely not a happy patient.

There were still the examinations day after day, and yet I did not even have the energy to even cuss or swear in such a way that would have made my brother proud. I couldn't seem to get a firm grasp of reality, and everything was just swimming in darkness while I continued on with my perverse little nest of horrifying thoughts.

One of the worst things was that I had absolutely no idea how to help myself, or what caused it, or how long it was going to last. I only knew that I was alone, and I had to face it the best I could.

I refused to take sleeping tablets for fear of addiction. That would be the last thing I wanted, so I opted for tranquilizer pills instead. They don't cause enough harm, there would be barely any side effects. Granted, it wasn't a sleeping pill, but it had anti-depressant effects and would depress my central nervous system enough to calm me down.

I was skeptical of how that little white offending pill would help. The doctor recommended half a pill.

I took twice the amount than I should have.

Did it work? Oh, yes. Perhaps a little too well. Suddenly the night seemed so relaxing, the chirping of the crickets seemed comforting, and it was like being drunk on a certain friend's party in 2009 all over again.

Things improved after that.

No more pills - for now. I have a few more of them stashed somewhere in my bedroom, and I'll use it again whenever a crisis shows up. I really must work out what it is. It's definitely not Prozac, though.

What shocked me to the core was how alone I was throughout the entire process. In actual fact, I knew that most friendships I had with people nowadays were minimum to non-existent. However, this time, even the ones who I thought were close to me turned their backs on me as well.

Let me rephrase. They did not stare at me like some vile creature from the depths of hell. That'd be rude, and I'd hacked their whatevs off before they had a chance to protest.

No, no. They ignored me as if I never existed.

It wasn't a major fear of mine, and I knew something like that could always happen - and yet when it really does, it's still quite a tight slap on the face. It didn't take me too long to figure out why. These people - they are the type who are unable to deal. They see someone having problems, and they refuse to get involved - not wanting to get caught up, perhaps, or just too lazy to give a batshit.

They are unable to deal, therefore they ignore.

Ignorance.

Bliss.

Ultimatum.

The oddest thing was that the ones who came up to me with words of encouragement and promises to listen were the...most unlikely people. There were also mostly friends I had from all over the world, people that I did not have a chance to see often. Singaporeans. United Kingdom dwellers. A friend/parental figure from the States. A close friend from Kajang whom I've known for years but have never really met.

It made me wonder what kind of a person I was to be surviving in such a dazed state, and yet not caring about anything else at the same time.

I wanted to talk to them. Oh, trust me, I really wanted to - but in the end, pride somehow won over, as usual. Well, that wouldn't be anything new. I didn't want them to look at me as if I was a mistake. I didn't want them to see me in such a sorry state. I didn't want them to treat me any differently.

Most importantly, I had no idea how to talk to them. The mere thought of spilling my guts to them was horrifying. It felt like a life and death issue. I didn't know how to tell them anything. It infuriates me. I can type endlessly into an empty space of a blog, and yet when it comes to dealing with individuals, I simply want to run and hide.

I wonder how am I to deal with all of this alone when there's so much doubt inside me.

Calamity, with the capital C. In the end I'm just running away again. All these years, and perhaps I've learnt nothing much after all. Life will go on, of course. People will come and go. Days will pass by. Things will end up changing with the passing of the season. People will wave at me as I leave, with a smile on their faces. And on mine. Still, does it matter?

I'm still afraid of the dark.

Perhaps I always will be.