They say that when there’s a will, there will be a way.

So I tried to trace your voice to find out your whereabouts. I tried to find you while you were singing but instead I was lost in a complete chaos, and became deaf from hearing too much noises on my journey. And then I tried to follow your scent. I closed my eyes and tried to bring myself to the most comforting place I know— your side. But the world has became too stinky, too smelly that I couldn’t find anything that has slightly decent smell. It’s horrible, and my whole body just refused to continue anymore. They say that we should love bravely, love loudly, love in the most courageous way you have. So I tried to run and yell out your name, hoping you will come out somehow. I tried to jump and scream out for your presence, hoping that you’d catch me. But I ended up with broken bones and bruises and heartaches.

And then I thought to myself, ah, maybe I should just stay still, stay silent, stay quiet. Maybe this kind of love will suit me. Maybe Hope will help Destiny to bring you back to me, or bring me back to you. So I sit, I wait, I pray. I pray to your god, to my god, to the stars, to the earth, to the rain, to the whole universe to somehow help me shoo this loneliness away. Because it consumes me and it hurts me and it’s like I’m under a curse where everything is killing me but I can’t be dead. It’s the worst curse ever— to live with misery.

They say that I bring all this upon myself.

So I tried to prove that it was actually a choice. I tried to crawl out of this long road of darkness and find sunshine, only to find myself walking in a darker dark and hopeless tunnel. They say it’s normal when you want to hurt yourself from the outside because you’re trying to kill the pain that’s inside, but they don’t let you do it. So I tried to stop, and I ended up wanting to vanish even more. I want to die die die die and just die, because I feel like there’s no way I can jump out and escape this very soul, this very life. I should just end it.

People teach me that it’s not okay to be alone. That I should share what I feel and what I think and they persistently assure me that it’s going to make everything easier. So I tried to cry shamelessly in front of those who proclaimed themselves as friends. I’ve shed my tear, written my words, and yelled out the rotten noise in my heart. But again I’m left all alone, because they still don’t get me. And then they accused me of pretending to be like this. Like anyone would want to feel like this every single day. People always tell me this and that and this and that as if they know everything. And I tried to follow their words. I tried, I swear I did.

But here I am, still.

With nothing.

1 month ago with 4 notes 4 notes
tagged as: writing.