It's raining today, like the days before it, and the days after it. The floor is drenched wet - I never had the time to call someone over to fix the leaky roof.

The room is pitch black. The storm must have tripped the circuit. I am afraid of the dark, so I never switch the lights off when I go to bed. I know it's a bad habit. But I sleep alone, so nobody ever complains.

As I breathe, I can smell the faint tinge of rusting iron. When the sun comes up tomorrow, I must make sure that I call somebody over to fix my leaky roof. If this problem goes on unattended, soon I won't have anything to shield me from the future rains.

So, I must find myself a plumber - but where am I going to get his number?

I have always relied on others to fix my domestic household woes. If my computer breaks down, I put my hopes on Larry to save my "life force". Likewise, Tim is over a mere push of the button to solve my electrical problems. Alice always manages to tell me the right thing to use to get rid of stubborn stains and how would I be able to whip up decent meals if not for Melissa's sane cooking advice.

But I've never had to call a plumber before, so who will I call this time?

I guess the approach I take to physical setbacks mirrors the approach I take to matters of the heart. I don't think I've ever been emotionally independent. I've always been craving for some sort of public approval, some sort of mass acceptance. Always eager to please others, I've never learnt to say no. Even if I'd rather not have said yes.

I've hopped in and out from one relationship to another. Even before my feelings for the last one have been cleared out, there I am again in the arms of someone new. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. The men I have loved have never truly loved me. And the men that have truly loved me, I have never been able to love in return.

It is like I am courting tragedy on purpose. I want that which I cannot have and I am never satisfied with what is around me.

I try to stretch my arms out, but my muscles are too tired to move. Gathering whatever little strength I have, I move my hands about and feel the warmth of the cold cement floor. I must be right under a leak because I am completely drenched in a pool of water.

I should clean my floor more often. The dirt accumulated thickens the pool and the liquid sticks on my fingers.

In the darkness, I can make out the odd shapes and sizes that is my room. My sturdy walnut cabinet and its matching chest of drawers. My battered study desk and the chair that I rock in every time I sit at it. The outlines of my poster bed, and a faint glimmer at my feet.

A crack of lightning flashes through the window above me. In that brief moment of illumination, and today's events are now clear to me.

And as the light fades into the night, I embrace the darkness around me.