It's hard to explain.

When my everyday routine is helping mum,
running errands,
facing the computer,
practising on the keyboard,
reading books,
taking naps,
just to pass time.

It's hard to explain.

When I sent 3 mails and only 1 get back,
but that one,
the hope that I'm still holding on,
is slowly slipping.

It's hard to explain.

When all I could do is wait,
wait till ORD,
wait till they reply,
wait till uni starts.

It's hard to explain.

When the present is still here,
collecting dust,
staring,
guilt.

It's hard to explain.

When I keep quiet,
I'm the most comfortable.

It's hard to explain.

When I turn to my BMT mate,
for help.

It's hard to explain.

When I want to say something,
but find myself holding back.
When I want to ask,
but I bit my tongue.
When I want to console,
but my hands are tied.

It's hard to explain.

When I know that I have
to do something,
but the only thing I did,
was drown myself further.

It's hard to explain.