Almost two years, staying at home, barely doing anything. Seems like a very carefree life doesn’t it? Well, it doesn’t.
I am tired of convincing myself that I was fighting a depression so it’s okay to have my time stops. The truth is, it hurts. I really really want to fly along side with those who share my joy and pain. I really really want to just break the chains and leave the other hurts by my decision. But what can I say? I am a coward. Even so, it hurts.
Because deep down, I hate this. I want to let it go and run, run with all my might till I run out of breath. Because deep down, I really want to jump down of the cliff, feeling the thrill of height and forget about the fact of danger arises once I meet the ground. Because deep down, I want to scream my lung out, forget about respecting others rule and comfort. Because I do want other to comply to my wishes, stopping myself from adjusting to other. Because the truth is I am so tired to even feel the exhaustion. Because the fact is, I was just fighting will all my might to stand still.
While I see people walk away toward their future, I sincerely feels happy. But I won’t lie, something stings, it hurt inside. There’s this gaping hole getting bigger and I tried to reason myself, practically begging myself to stop hurting inside.. I strengthen my heart, to accept the fact that time suppose to flow, that people comes and goes, that one day I might disappear, so I have to make the most of now. While I want to hold them, telling them to be by my side, to not forget about me, I forced myself to understand that they never belong to me. So I hold back from coming too much, I hold back from bonding so much.
When I realize that I really want something, so much that I can’t breath, I tried to distract myself by reading. If even reading won’t do the trick, I’ll try to play games. But when the heart is being ignored so much, it gets so strong. None of those distraction work.
..It just stings much more.
All I can do is lying myself down, close my eyes and take a very deep breath. It won’t help much but it’s better than nothing.
And when the stings are too much, so much that I can’t handle, I’ll write. It still suffocate, it still painful, but it soothe the heart that it get to shows its pain.
Dear my poor heart, won’t you cheer up soon? Can’t we just live peacefully together without having you inflict pain internally upon me?
Dear my poor heart, won’t you cheer up soon? Can’t we just support each other so I do not need to struggle to breath?
Dear my poor poor foolish heart, cheer up please?
It hurts when it stings, so won’t you stop being sad?