At times I feel like I’m losing myself. Maybe it should be in past tense. I’ve lost “me”. Or the essence of who I am. I still look like myself, but inside, I think who I am has withered into nothingness. Like, shit, who’s this girl pretending to be me? My idiotic mind is like a constant blank. Sigh.

* * *

She gazed at her doll, when thoughts run in her head. It’s her favourite one, Valerie, the one with silky black hair which has been by her side for almost 5 years. She held it when she cried for the loss of her cat, she hugged it whenever nothing in the world appealed to her anymore. She was attached to it emotionally, since it was her only anchor. She never really had any real friends, always a loner since she was a child. She preferred her own company, she grew accustomed to solitary. She’d rather be alone than be emotionally vulnerable to others.

A few months back, she would have never even think of getting a new doll, of throwing Valerie away. But recently, a voice has been whispering in her mind, harbouring secret thoughts.

It’s something she had deprived herself of, since the day she made a decision to lock her heart behind closed doors. The risks, uncertainties and the twisted sense of satisfaction that could only be found when experiencing a whole new process of emotions.

Should she or should she not?

Reluctance held her back. She fears the uncertainty, yet has an unexplainable crave for it. It is the fear of losing something perfect, and the fear of plunging into a sea of unknown. What if she discovers that it is not what she wanted after all, that she had thrown away the most precious thing in her life because she wanted to have a taste of the unknown?