And when I thought it couldn't get any worse, everything turned for the worst. Every single thing.

Everyday, something else is revealed. But none for the better. Nada.

It is only when you run into troubles and frustrating affairs, you realise who is really there for you. And it is only when you read about what happened, or hear about what happened, that you realise how little you know and most importantly how little you'd been there for that person. And it might be an indication of how much you care and bother. And when that guilt sets in, it might be horrible phase. But the worst thing is to not be able to say anything when you know every single thing.

In some sense, we are like convicts awaiting freedom. Freedom is out of reach, desiring escapism.

“When we truly realise that we are all alone is when we need others the most."
-Ronald Anthony