should it be called "the anguish of living"

monday comes, sweeping away all the energy stored up from your rest in the weekend

was it the horrid fact that human including me selfishly moving on their own benefit in circumstances, turning themselves into ruthless beast, trampling on every other's hearts as long as it doesnt concern their own territory 

ruthless cold-heart beast that just assumes any identity wherever it fits

and certainly, i was not any exception

and that hurts and disappoints me the worst

as i failed to adhere to and act on my own integrity

does living in this so-called society mean that one has to devil-ize oneself in the process?

that one needs to crush others' path in order to protect their own interest and their own precious ones?

even if the initiation of the devil deed was not done by them, their silence and their onlookers position almost equivalently adopts the same stance, that of the partner in crime and of no less cruel

was it the return of the solitary night that scares the heart which has been reawakened with that unforgettable taste of the kind of possessive caress, the kind of timid yet resolved tenderness, the kind of addictive delightful warmth... 

was it just the single fact that my brains started to register the physical needs for you, to yearn for you, for your scent, for your touch, for your embrace, for the world of our own, within and without the ache of living life as it is

it must be these things that has been squeezing and tightening my heart all the while

and hearing your voice alone has unleashed it all

as if the pain of living this life on one's own, becoming a devil in disguise, just grows too  overwhelmed to contain, too heavy of a burden to shoulder and it bursts at the finest trigger, at the quiet sound of your soft laughter alone

as if your voice reminds me of being a me with just me and our world 

and i cant help but wishing for it, to be in your embrace, to forget about it all,

the anguish of living and carrying on on my own

...or maybe it is all only an illusion, a fantasizing world that I fabricate in my head 

another dimension of the unreal paradise only in our conception