My angel. My one and only angel. The one that can talk sense into my nonsensical mind. My anchor. My strong hold. The last one that I have, without whom I would have succumbed to delusional dreams and blissful nightmares that have already begun to haunt me. My archangel that does a lot more than jump of a building to show that he can fly. The one that does not need to resort to superfluous means to shed light in my darkened world. The one that keeps the eminent darkness in me in check. The one that extinguishes the flames that burn me.

My ability to read is diminishing in my plight. My thoughts are scattered and I would love nothing more than to digress from axons and optical chiasms. Yes. It is chiasms and not chasms.

It is at times like these that I feel like I can just go on and be hysterical and misunderstood. That's not the word I'm looking for but amidst the chaos that engulfs, it will suffice.

I want to be a Ptolemy. One that starts a dynasty that is remembered through the ages. I am almost certain that it is within my grasp and that one day the world will hear my screams and although not necessarily have sympathy, heed my warnings or feel my pain, but just know that I am who I am. And that I exist whether I am cherished or despised.

I vaguely recall a time where I resonated in the hearts and minds of those I held dear. I remember a time when what I said, thought and felt mattered. These days I often wonder where that strength has disappeared to. I wonder where my resolve went. It's somewhere around isn't it? After all, we cannot truly forget what we are. And that is what I am. Or at least what I used to be. A resolve. A reason. I was me. I still find myself wondering what happened to the girl that used to be and why she became the girl that was.

It is part of the change isn't it? I feel it coursing through my veins. I feel things that I have not felt in a long long time. I reminisce more often now than I have before. Do you remember when I used to sign off as "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. I am The prodigy."? I scribbled that on my noticeably small white board. And I added this: "She who was, is and has yet to come. The prodigy lies in slumber, waiting for her time to shine." I can't help but think that I have missed my time. And it is just barely out of reach.

I did not realise that I had transferred my dislike of one person to another. I find it unbelievable that I replaced the distrust with trust and the trust with distrust. To a person who has lost my trust and a little of my respect but not my care. I only begin to realise how I have diminished in my beliefs. All because now, I choose not to speak them. For if I did, things would be a lot worse than they already are.

I have existed from age to age. From the time life took it's first breath. And when the last living thing in all the planes fades, my task will be done. - I am not speaking of myself of course. I expect that very few will know to whom that reference was made to. I am not her and she is not me. But she is a part of me. I don't mean to sound cryptic or morbid, but if she were to come to me in this hour, I would not resist. As much as I have so much more to do, so much more to accomplish and so many of whom I hold dear, and even more that I miss, I would not resist.

I told someone today that we must live our lives with optimism and not pessimism. And yet here I am. I'm on neither. Sitting on the fence again. And one day I am going to be flung. There is a fine line isn't there? And we cannot stand in the middle. Life is full of many choices. Taking one path eliminates all the possibilities of the other.

I used to think that I was ok. I used to tell everyone something along the lines of what Amy Lee so eloquently croons "don't try to fix me I'm not broken". But after much contemplation, about a half hour's worth, I am that which I claim not to be. I am a broken person. A shell of my former self. And so I must ask the most selfish thing that I could ever ask.
When will your light guide me home?
When will the ache in my bones ignite and in doing so leave me?
When will you be able to fix me?
Because I cannot stand to be so shattered. I cannot bare this burden. Or at least I have made myself believe that I cannot. When will help come? Is hope really on the way for me? Is this the chronic depression he spoke of? Is this another test? Another trial? Another journey onto which I must embark alone? Why must I be alone. Why can't I have someone beside me just to walk with me. Or has there always been beings beside me, guiding and helping me along the way. Ones who pick me up as I fall. Or have I taken them all for granted.

I keep telling people that I'm just me. And I might not be of much help. But if it makes a difference, I will listen. And I will try. And I will be there. And I will be what they need. That I can be that pillar of strength on which they can draw from.

But.

Yes, but. Have I lied to myself? Have I let myself down? Is this a nightmare from which I cannot awake. Am I too exhausted to deal with that which I must? Should I lay myself down to rest? Should I worry about myself over others? Can I find it in me to be that selfish? Can I learn to say no to those that I can help even though it is an inconvenience?

Have I blown things out of proportion? I feel like I'm crumbling. I know that I cannot answer the question "what is wrong?". I know. But I can't explain. It's hard. I... I need somebody. Somebody who won't judge me. Somebody who knows who I was, and knows the me that is now. Somebody that accepts me for my mistakes and achievements (if any). I find that the tag line to Singapore anti-drug campaign, one by one, all my brothers leave me, is not just subjected to drugs or gangs or these dark underground areas of this world.

It's ok i suppose. I always make it in the end. I'm not ready to give up. But for now, I'm tired. And I need someone to hear me. Someone to just listen to me. That in itself is comforting. That is enough for me. Because some of the people who I thought would be with me till the end have already left having had a taste of exactly what I meant. I don't blame them for being afraid. But I can only ask them of one thing. That they do not pin their misfortunes on me. I am in no way a good or bad luck charm. I am not a charm at all. I am neither good nor bad either. I'm a mix. I am dual in nature. That was an option laid before me, and it is the path I have chosen for myself.

As much as any of you would hate to believe it, I would have stood by you. I would if I could. Devil or Angel, Light or Dark. None of that mattes to me because I am in no position to cast stones for reasons that I myself am bound to. I am reason enough to survive. But I do not live my life for myself. I live so that others may live after me. So that others will not have to bare this burden. So that others can see the world through my eyes. And I can assure you, they are not rose tinted.

I am just... A mirror. A mirror to the lighter and darker side of the moon. Now who can tell me where that pop culture reference is from.