on being 24.

i hated being 23 with a passion.

if i thought 17 was a year where it shaped me the most as a person, 23 is one that threw me to a whole mess that i would have to live with thereafter.

i lost my father, my uncle, my cousin, and v, in the span of 4 months. v didn't die in real life, he's just dead to me.

everyday, i had to accustom myself that they aren't here with me anymore. i have to constantly remind myself to not search for their presence anymore. and going through the pain of knowing over and over again.

i'm immune to people asking me what happened, it's no different than repeating my history with every doctor i've seen in the past prior to getting a psychiatrist to see me. but with every repeat, i've to keep relieving the memory of that frightful night. at this point i'm not sure if i'm used to it, or i'm just numbed.

my 23 is filled with countless and countless of regrets, things i wish i should've done, words i wished i didn't say. but nothing's worse than not being able to spend my father's last father's day and birthday. i beat myself up everyday for letting that stupid useless ego of mine to not forgive my father till his last moment. is this the part where when asked if i could time travel back into the past, and i say i will travel back to this period?

i'm afraid i've to end the post here. i'm in pain talking about this. i just hope it will be easier to be 24. 

and i miss my father.