Bedtime Story





Let me tell you my story. My hidden scars. I wonder, does it important to anyone? I never know.

I had scars hidden on my left arm and my thighs. I cut it when I can't feel a thing. I cut it when I feel the pain is unbearable. I cut it when I was clueless. Somehow no matter how much the cuts are, a part of me still feeling empty.

I want to die so badly. Wanting to end my life because there is no point of keep being alive. Am I important? Am I worth enough? I wish I could exchange my life with people deserve to be alive. Why I am still breathing? Do I have reasons to live? That were my question.

I see doctors. I had my diagnosed. I had my meds but I am still feeling empty. I guess it won't change. At least for now.

Few of my friends knew about it. They were so calm handling me. Some of them just can't stop blaming me for being depressed, for being suicidal. I tend to run to them when I was at my lowest point.

Two of them are my favorite. One is Atria and the other is AJ.

They have faith in me when I am not. They still care when I couldn't even love myself.

To Atria,
I am sorry if I am not the good friend for you. You keep telling me that my existence have a reason in this world and I am matter. Thank you for everything Atria. For being a good friend to me, a best listener and a sister for me.

To AJ,
I wish I could read your mind so I could have known. I know that you won't be here anymore. You keep telling me to be brave and face all my fear. I am scared and coward, I told you already. When you left because I did not give an answer, I am sorry. I wish you could have stay.Yesterday I dreamed of you. You were back but it was just a dream.

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