If I have to pretend, it will not be a problem.

What is it that makes one lose interest in life? And not just that. To lose the interest to find an interest in life.

What is it that makes one live a life of passing time instead of living a life?

What is it that makes one cease to feel enthusiasm about the possibilities of a future? Or even the probable existence of one.

What is it that makes the day seem so tiring and yet, the night seem so unfilfilled?

What is it that makes the heart pace so consistently and so without any surprise?

What is it that makes me write knowing that I will never get a reply?

I want to go into a deep deep and long long sleep. I want to wake up not remembering what happened. I want to start anew. But yet, I don't want to start foolish, ignorant and unrealistically optimistic.

It's not the loss that is holding me back. It's my willingness to bear the hurt, relive the pain and tire of disappointments that keep me here. There is no more of these so long as there is no hope.

Through all these, you may have learnt that hope might cost a lot. But what else is there?

There is denial. Not denial of hurt, pain or disappointment. There's denial of hope.