Breathe.

I really hope Howard Shi (Editor-in-Chief) doesn’t ban this.

So, readers, if you are seeing this, then you ought to know, at exactly 4:04:46, Thursday, 1st of October, in my Chinese extension class, I was wondering what the hell I was supposed to publish today. If I don’t, well, let’s just say that there will be consequences…

Anyways, I’m just sitting here, with the knowledge that there was absolutely no way I can write one of those long articles about politics or philosophy.

So I’m just sitting here, wondering what to write, and then it hits me.

Random thoughts about very random things! Why not? It was only until ten minutes later that I realised that it was too late to turn back from this foolishness.

However, it is not too late, so if you don’t like personal talk, go read Bryan Carmichael’s amazing psychology stuff or something.

Turn back.

Close this article.

Right now.

Anyways, if you’re still reading, well, thank you for still reading this crap I’m writing. So, there is probably a question in your mind: “Marcus, what the hell are you ranting on about?”

Well, it’s complicated.

Simply put, it’s been a long day… A really long day.

Readers, can I ask you whether you have ever made a really tough decision, which, you yourself know will impact others deeply? Has making this choice, between whatever you have been confronted with, been of tremendous difficulty? After making this decision, does everything seem to be falling apart? Have you been condemned, dear readers, for a sacrifice you made? One that, though you knew hurt others, hurt yourself as well?

Have you ever believed that your mission was to help others? Have you ever had that stream of self-righteousness (perhaps toxic) coursing through your veins? Have you, then due to that, forcibly pushed your worries, your anger, your sadness, and your pain away, hidden it to a dark corner of a dusty attic, while putting on a mask of joy?

That mask, golden, elaborate fitted with glistening gemstone and decorated with strokes of paint, vibrantly. So similar to that of the Egyptian death mask, one to cover the dust and decay and debris of behind.

Have you ever felt like you needed to talk to someone, to spill out your darkest thoughts before they drown you?

Have you ever become enraged, or hurt so deeply that your insides melted into a pot of badly cooked stew, and then, breathing deeply, you tell yourself to get over it, to hold it back, because you were too ashamed to let it out, too fearful of the fallout and the consequences? And afterwards, have you wanted to shout, to scream, to break something?

Have you ever wanted to rage, to hurt, to destroy, just to let them know? Let them know what you’ve held at bay, what they’ve put on your shoulders, already laden with expectation.

Just to let it all out, and hope that they will be too shocked, and you would be too tired?

Just to tell them that you’ve tried, you really have, and you had your demons too.

Just to throw away everything, hoping that the metal cuffs bounding you will go as well.

Just to finally breathe.