The floor glistened. It is quiet and there is no one around. It started to drizzle shortly after I left home. I flustered for a while, worried that the rain might get heavier on me. Then I realised that I didn’t mind getting drenched afterall, it’s almost like some kind of baptism. Can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to embrace the rain.

There is always that point of time when one is worried about getting caught in a downpour before deciding “fuck it”.

I am not that alone. There are people who are still up not because they’re feeling a little off tonight – the people still at work at the sleepy gas station, the underpaid and overworked foreign workers filling cartons at the fruits and vegetables store, young men zipping around on their bikes delivering food to other hungry people (who are still awake) amongst other lone people walking/jogging at 2:30am.

Every huge tree I stroll by offered some kind of solace, similar to what those occasional nice thoughts I had about my not-so-bad life offered. The journey out always feels a little longer than the walk back home.

I have my insecurities sometimes. I measure myself up to people around me subconsciously, and unnecessarily. I am aware that transitions are difficult, these feelings I have are normal and they are my natural defences to prepare me for the changes that are to come.