9pm, 2015, July, 6th.

Woke up from a very deep sleep, and just felt the need to blog.

Yeap, its that kind of feeling again. How do you describe it? Emptiness?

Its the feeling that I get whenever I'm back from travelling. There's nothing here for me. There's nothing at all. Not Singapore, not hong kong, not anywhere. Maybe its the wanderlust working against me. I can only feel a sense of excitement when I'm travelling, and seeing new things.

This monotonous life is killing me, slowly, little by little. Even if I try to hide from the fact that it is, deep down I know its something I can't run away from. Its a void, that's just getting bigger and bigger as the days go by.

Where and when does one exactly find happiness? And how do I define happiness?

Some things felt so close to being happiness but somehow it just feels that I've not done enough to grab hold of it. Too many times, I was afraid of losing something, but I end up losing it anyway because of this fear of losing.

The need to say something, to let it be known. I just can't bring myself to say those words out, even though she's right there in front of me. I couldn't. And before you know it, she's gone.

I always say I don't regret anything, but somehow, this time round, for the first time, I'm regretting it.