It was once my dream, now I don't want it.

I never thought being an adult would be this stressful. I imagined it would be fun, exploring reality, finding new discoveries and the most exciting of all being responsible. What I’ve image is far from the reality I am in. Dominant pain, less achievements. Close to depression, barely managing to put up a fight. A fight which I have no idea where I am heading for.

Adulting, where my definition of rest is breakdown. Does that even considered as a rest? The amount of battle I had is the measurement of how I’ve grown to lose my passion for certain things. Life in general. It consumed every ounce of me. Stuck up by the thought of genuine happiness will come after a storm.