It's over a year now since my mother has left (still I don't wanna used the term "passed away" 'coz it hurts)...still I don't feel like talking 'bout it in public or share the grief with my friends...it's not that I feel like they wouldn't listen or understand or even care...it's just that I don't wanna make it such a big deal for them or spoil the moments...it's just that I'm still angry inside. As much as I don't wanna feel bitter or something, but as i look back now, I think I am. She's the most loving person in the world and as much as the other half of my brain tells me I shouldn't be writing these, in my heart, it tells me otherwise. How could someone ignore the wonderful things that had left her broken...
...and I ended up forcing myself to grow up in a hurry...because most of the time I find myself needing her more than ever. And the whole thing controlled me somehow. I'm still struggling to be my old self. Sobra....
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