The world will still be here tomorrow.

In life, be it cheering or jeering you, there'll always be people calling out your name. You either tune those voices to be the one that motivate or get crush by the might of the audience.

"What do they know?"

I hear myself repeating that question.

What do I know?

As much as I say I'll be there, the whole load of bullshit even sounded weak to my ears. When I see my friends, hell, close friends crying, my first knee jerk reflex is to walk away. Out of all the times I walked away, I never came back. It's not right, I know. As if squashing the ant wasn't enough, I had to squish it harder, decapitating the body further.

I never understood my coping mechanism. The sense of escapism when aware of danger. Isn't it a survival instinct? Except that the crisis wasn't one of danger, but of a hurting friend in need of comfort. I can't give that. I don't admonish myself because I tried. Till then, if I find a way to cope with my rather unconventional coping mechanism, I'll let you know.