writer

she wishes to be burned when her time comes, and let her roam among the seas afterwards

she treasures every single meaning, forgetting she was meant to be treasured.

I'm exhausted. I wanna die soon if possible. I don't know anything anymore. I don't know what else. I don't know anything anymore. I just don't know. It's loud, but quiet, exists but not present. And it hurts. And I don't know anymore.

This fucking depression is already a death of me, I'm already bleeding myself trying to drag me out of the fucking pithole, but it's so in vain. I don't know anymore, I don't. That's enough. I don't know, shut up.

It's tiring.

It's very tiring.

I feel like the clown being ridiculed just by trying to pursue what I wish to have. Like I wasn't allowed to smile, to be happy. The turbulence of everything made me unstable and worse and worse and getting worse with every passing time as I tried to handle it.

If this is always the outcome of every bond I'm trying to make... then what's the point?

Why do I always end up crying, depressed, lost, feeling unwanted, not needed...

I want to die.

Just fuck you and your idea of torment for a stronger strength. It hurts, it makes my head ache worse. I know my head is lying to me, I know my hyper-awareness and over-analysis tendency are the reason why I kept shedding tears, and also the capacity of which knowing that these people are innocent because they didn't do what I think they do.

But why.

I don't know.

It hurts.

Everyone keeps... slipping away. Because I'm not something they need in this life. It hurts? Yeah, sure. I'm not going to change. I will continue to behave like this, for there is no reason for me to change. No one interested in me.

Somehow, it ends in disappointment, like I'm a mistake they didn't expect to deal with.

So, if I'm gone, I guess that's better. I'll stop approaching, unless they need me too.

Then again, I have to restart all over again.

Well, nothing's new. Nothing's unfamiliar. It's always been me all alone in the first place, pursuing for a life I wish to have with people I hold dear. And maybe due to the intense damage I owned, every subtle, normal change, becomes a threat to me.

It's never my fault.

But it's the reality I have to swallow, it's the reality I'm living in. The reality where I... am a mistake, and had to fit in the box.

It's exhausting.

So, it's very empty here.

When the noise goes down and I'm all by myself again, somewhat the happiness fades instead of lingers. What I feel doesn't stay, it replaces and fills the emptiness with something else, just like something to be put on and off... so is the happiness and emotions.

Once I'm all alone, the happiness was not there anymore.

But, it wasn't surprising. Truly, I've become used to that feeling, aware that nothing lasts forever. It's a hard pill to swallow, it made my eyes sting and wet and hurt and burn and every muscle on my face felt like it's being pulled tight whenever my emotions melts into pieces and I crumble into dust. But I'm trying to keep some, trying to decorate this space of darkness and emptiness with colors and light.

A space with nothing. A space with no bound, no edge, no limit. A dark, empty space of my own world, where there is nothing else but me.

It was a beach back then; warm and sunny, bright and dazzling, welcoming me into a new shape of my world.

Yet, it, too, doesn't last.

What happened today, I was completely tipped off. I realized that I've broken far much more precious thing, what I have left in common with those folks I hold dear.

I don't feel any regret, sadness, nor upset... merely understanding.

I've hurt you, in a way that I never meant to, and you didn't told me, and I'm probably reading cues that doesn't exist. Perhaps I am blinded by my own trauma, thinking that you're no longer wants to be a friend. Though, it's not your fault.

It's mine. I don't fight for us. I strayed away, and I believe you noticed that yet refuses to believe, still wishing for a hope to return to what we used to be.

But we can't. Because I don't want to return.

I no longer want you. But I do wish to reconnect with a new relationship, but it does feels like... it's not what you want.

Sadly, what we have in the past, was one of the active reason as to why I'm suffering at this age and moment. How can you expect me to live in that kind of environment?

Sure, it is my fault for staying shut up and never talk. But the warmth you're offering, is not comforting. It's a torch, while all I need is a blanket, but you don't have one, and will try to talk it out to me to settle with the torch.

Well, I don't want that. And I don't want you too.

And maybe this is how our story ends.

I've always stayed astray from the world, and that's how you looked at me, too. Makes me feel different, special, one-of-a-kind, forgetting that I want to be involved just like most of us. But you don't know how, because you don't understand me, and you hope I understand you instead.

I am done understanding. It's sickening. It makes my throat lump with vomit, as I try to breathe without letting any tears shed down my cheeks.

It's cloudy, both outside and inside. Heavy with tears and rain, one is salty and the other brings you peace when it reaches the ground. There was nothing more to say, for I have lost words to speak about. But recently, the heat doesn't stop the rain from existing, nor the rain vanishes the trace of heat when it falls.

Two opposites, co-existing just to prove what the world has become.

While I, am utterly exhausted. I've repeated the same word—exhaustion. So, I took a rest. Unfortunately, it's not gone. Just... hidden away, giving me space to rest. Then it returns, slowly, carefully, in chances when every brick has been placed upon my shoulders; adding weight until I crumble under the pressure.

Everything is slowly taken away from me, and I deal with them myself, my way, trying to get everything under control. But the fact is? Nothing is under my control. Nothing is fine. Nothing. I don't want to lose anything or anyone, I need them here with me forever until I'm fucking died.

Are you asking me to die right now?

I've set up a future, an aim I wish to live one day, hoping with that I'll slowly get out of this hell hole. But instead, you took everything away under the defense that I need to get used to actual pain for whatever I have to sacrifice in the future for a life I wish to have.

Fuck nature's law. I want to keep what I own and what's mine. If you can't let me do that maybe you should end my life right now because I'm tired with this bullshit.

Stop it. Just fucking stop. Stop trying to yank the chain just because the rattling noise helped you know how much weight I've carried.

With this, you just reminded me of the hatred I've got for you.

However, alongside that, you also remind me to not give a fuck. Fuck you and the nature's law that tied you together into my fate to create this loop of cause and effect, the things that pulls me and push me away from one thing to another.

For a while, it feels as if I'm free. Just like that, in a mere second, what I thought last for a little longer is taken away from me. Just like that, I was expected to settle down with what fate have decided. Just like that, they hoped me to keep going on in life, to prove that I don't need any of them anymore.

Well, I hate them for this. I hate them for every decision they made for me. I hate for the theories I thought by myself, how fate was written by nobody but me. Because it's ridiculous how a soul exist solely to endure something called life, living, existence, solely because it's the way of the universe.

Maybe they just need to stop, so I can just die and this is all will be over.

I just don't understand the purpose of taking away everything. I don't understand why comfort zone is a sin for them. I don't understand why staying still is harmful.

Maybe one's fate is to be there.

Maybe one's wish is just to be here.

Maybe there aren't any grand purpose. Maybe if you stop meddling thinking we need you for every choice we made, maybe you should stay still and get your hands off my life. Stop taking everything away just because you think it's what I need forward.

Nothing will stop me. And nothing, will ever decide for me.

Stop hurting me. You've done just enough in the past. You've done enough to hurt a soul that doesn't even understand the purpose of living. It's ridiculous for you to have no consciousness while weaving within the threads of fate and consciousness and existence amongst us the living souls.

Stop playing innocent.

It's not innocent, you're not innocent. Even if everything started from a simple friction out of nothingness... you are far beyond capable to weave through our shared fate and vision.

Now.

Stop. Touching. What's. Mine.

I know I can't do anything about it. But we know best than to keep pushing me to the edge. I may not know now, but I believe you know it best. After all, you did this for a purpose, a line you've seen throughout patterns of life cycles.

Get your hands off my happiness, doesn't matter how much it affected my future. My future can understand me better than you do. I don't care for a goal, purpose, the very life I wish to have... what's in the future remain mystery.

What matter is right now. What I have right now. And you, have no right to take it away. Not anymore. Because it will, always, be your fault.

And I know you know. It's not new. You've heard it throughout the entire human evolution. For centuries.

Something feels different. There's no roof above, nor walls surround me; just the vast sky, limitless as far as the eye could reach. Beneath me, the sand, soft and warm, gentle against my skin once I slowly sit to process of the new view. What is this?

The blue sky, bright and sunny, not stinging hot as I expected it to be, shining onto the vast, endless sea, reflecting its light above the gentle pattern of waves of the surface. I'm at the beach. But how?

I feel the breeze caressing my skin, my cheeks felt much warmer, no longer colder, and I feel much more... free. There's nothing clinging onto my body, just a simple sheet of dress, wrapped around me, dressing me gently as if it doesn't want to remind me of what's been suffocating me.

"Come, let's run together."

I hear a voice, familiar, but I would never expect to hear him this close. When I turned my head, I saw his familiar figure, the violet eyes like the sunset greets my obsidian ones. I looked down, seeing how the sand gently laps over my toes.

"But what if there's a coral? A shards? Something sharp or hurtful? Or even sea animals..."

I voiced my worry to him, but he just smiles, as genuine and assuring, opening his arms wide open. "I've searched through the beach for you, my dear, I've ensured that nothing would harm your feet," he replied, eyes glowing softness and gentleness I've longed in my whole life.

Yet, he's... far. Not far away. Just... out of reach.

"Come on, come to me," he beckoned gently, the smile becomes gentle—patient—like he's willing to postpone the world just to watch you, like he's willing to spend eternity if it means to reach you. "Let's run together."

Again, he asked me to run. But...

"I can't... move my legs."

Panic began to rush into my chest, when I looked back at him, worry gnawing at the back of my mind. Fear suddenly choked my throat, and tears welling up in my eyes. The breeze tried to caress my cheeks like it did, but my breath was too painful to be ignored. I felt my heart racing in a hurry, in a demand that I need to move—

—or else he'll be gone.

"Hey."

Suddenly, a hand reached for mine, standing beside me, another man with bright red eyes, blond hair reminded you of him. His hold was gentle, despite the callousness in his palm, he kept holding your hand.

"Take a deep breath," he reminded you, locking his deep-red eyes into yours, as if he wants to erase the rising panic in your chest. "One step at a time, alright?"

"Yes," the man with violet eyes adds, capturing your attention, and his smile remains gentle as ever. "The world is under your command. This world, specifically."

With your shaky breath, your thrashing mind comes to a halt, and the crimson-eyed man tightens his grip. "Good, you are always capable."

"But... I still can't move..."

Although with all the calmness, I feel the weight on my feet. It makes my chest thumps too loudly, and I'm afraid to look forward, where the violet-eyed man standing not too far away from me. But enough if he's about to leave...

"Then stay still," the violet-eyed man answered, making you meet his gaze again.

"But... but if I don't move... I won't make any progress..." My voice broken, afraid that this is all will come to an end, the past's misery still clung into my soul as if it will cage me back to where I was.

Yet, he shook his head, the smile never fades, as if he was effortlessly smiling at me. "You are making a progress, my dear," he assured, "by understanding you cannot move, it is a progress you used to overlook."

I felt another presence from my other side. Yet, when I turned my head around, all I see was a shadow, but with weight and shape of a human, though faceless and genderless. Its hand reached to my other free hand, while his other hand come to my cheek and caressed the tears pooling there.

"Don't worry for things," it said, the head leans against yours, whereas its thumb remain caressing your cheekbone. "You know exactly the amount of steps you need to take."

That's when everything becomes so clear. As I looked straight ahead, where the violet-eyed man standing not too far away, where the sea meets the sky, the beach painting the path we'll run through... that I realize that the cage was gone.

It's no longer a foggy world. It's no longer dark and gloomy—it's sunny, so bright and vast, endless and limitless, as far as the eyes could see.

This is the world where I live before. A world where I visioned myself living in. A world where I see the path one by one... but now?

I have the whole world just for me, with them by my side, reminding me of what I've become so far. I understand. The cage was no longer locking me inside, but it chained my feet, digging into my heart, where it will clench and tighten around my heart, sending a signal of distress.

With this, my pain becomes way more invisible. I'm no longer caged, but the cost remained stuck around my heart, ready to sink me into my own spiral of pain whenever I feel the rush of excitement down my soul.

Tonight, reminds me of the first time things went spiraling into a new trajectory. A night I thought would be peaceful, kind, comforting, soothing... wakes me up in utter dread and hopelessness, fear swallowing me whole for hours and hours. It was so terrible, my body worked on autopilot, I reacted before I could even begin to realize the impact it left inside me.

After multiple occasions, every night I hear the sound thrumming and thundering against the roof of my house, I feel dread pooling in my chest, my throat collapses in a way making my whole body tense in alarm. Another trigger, from a complete situation I could never control.

What happened that night, the next morning, the view engraved into my memory, haunting me with every familiar rhythmical noise against any surface.

With each louder strike, the more little, smaller, helpless—ruined I've become.

Because I couldn't do anything. Praying? I hate the Gods for what they have done if they ever exist. I hate their existence for having the audacity to bring existence into my soul only to torment me for the sake of his selfish desire to achieve greater good.

Thus why, Gods doesn't exist. The sheer existence for a mere selfish desire of the holy being into tormenting a soul for sole development is none other unnecessary.

I, unnecessary, for example.

I did not ask for this. I never recall one. Not my fault I can't recall. I never asked to be part of this, with my current conscience. And these Gods thinks I could handle all of the torment life could offer because I can.

I accepted the challenge. I am locked in my cage. Perhaps they're waiting for me to burn down my cage and free myself, perhaps they are to insert this unbearable wrath for the very fate that they have created for me.

Throughout this piece, the sound still thrumming outside, crashing and ramming the roof with its forces. Every noise filled my senses, swallowing me whole, belittling me as if to put me in my place of what fear of the uncontrollable feels like.

It burns my anger.

It burns my wrath.

It burns every nerve inside of me.

But I don't deny this fear. Eventually, worst-case scenario will always happen. I'm waiting for that to happen. I'm waiting with all of you Gods, Fate, to see how I will face this future you have bestowed upon my future.

There are no reasons to defeat nonexistence.

Eventually, I will overcome everything. Keep tormenting me. Keep tightening the chain on my neck, until I can't breathe, until my tears turn blood, until my fingertips turn blue, until my breath stops...

...until I no longer serve the holy purpose you bestowed upon me.

The king has been captured.

Through various steps and starts, endless trials of winning, losing, and draws—the king shall be captured. Somewhere trapped between the enemy's pieces, with no way to move—forward, backward. All paths lead to the majesty's fall. No one comes to aid, not even the majesty's own right-hand; the queen. No, the board had been empty, with nothing but the enemy's color within view.

The king has lost, with no way to return.

Who might be the captor of the mighty majesty, who had been taking over his reign for years with its ups and downs, all the sacrifices of the little pawns, that leads to the ruin of his mighty kingdom?

The queen of the enemy? It is not impossible, for it has the strongest, biggest reign over the land, just like his own queen, who has lost the battle somewhere in the past. But how can he not see? Who is supposed to be responsible for the death of his pieces he set to protect him? For a piece as precious as the queen, it should be the very first thing his pieces got wary of.

The rook, with its limited yet straightforward movements? The bishop, with its precise cut between the gaps of his perfect walls? The knights, with its capability to surpass anything that holds it back?

The pawn... with the least power, the limited steps, the very pawn of every game, outnumber every piece with board-wide movements. It carried innocence, the piece who always was side-eyed, moved as a lure—a trap; a sacrifice. With the lowest point it endures, a piece serves as a holy sacrifice for the greater good of the strategy to win.

Then once, it reaches, the very core of the enemy's base... the pawn holds every power to reveal the very core of a pawn. Shall it be the knight; shall it be the bishop; shall it be the rook; or even the queen, owning every path it cross to take over the very land of the enemy...

Thus, becomes the end of the king. From one single pawn, the remaining hope by the remaining forces; allowing all the mighty pieces to sacrifice itself, for the chances of its win.

The queen was born from the pawn.

There is no longer a path for the king to flee. The queen seizes his control, allowing nothing else but surrender. For what's left of the enemy's pieces, well, there can always... be another rematch.

At times, there are always nights like tonight; lonely and empty, where I was pulled back down from the surface, deep down into my own chamber of misery that I realized; there's no one to talk to. I'm all alone, per usual, and the only gateway I ever able to put my hands on are these words over the blank, empty page.

But what do these words could offer, except to allow me to see what I've been trying to say, what I've been enduring this whole time?

I've been talking a whole lot, through the silence of the unknown, a space where no one could ever find what my soul truly made of. I've shown them once, but it doesn't matter—unnecessary. Because to be different means I should bear the mistreatment, for society is not made to benefit my unhinged tendencies.

What I want... a secure embrace.

One that doesn't make me question, one that doesn't suffocate me, one that doesn't make me flinch, one that finally returned. But with how things are now, I no longer hope.

Just like this, I always come back home. Here, where every part of me lies bare before everything else, the usual hidden exhaustion slowly makes its way out of me. I tried to find a way, something as a source to pour every inch of my pain, so at the very least, I don't have to, out of the blue, crumble and miserable like this.

But nothing last forever. It feels like everything I wanted to keep somewhat slipping away from my grasp, as if I was unable to reach them, grip them, within my grasp. As if everything was destined to be slipping away from my grasp and leave me all alone.

I said that, didn't I? Solitude is my forte, solitude is me, everything about me—loneliness is something I no longer stranger from.

But why do I shed tears? Each time the thought of losing the things I wish to hold dear will eventually lose and gone and disappear as if they never existed, it pains me. My brain conditioned myself into thinking that losing something eventually will make me miserable, and it is normal. Then why, do I have this fear of losing something, knowing it greatly did me damage?

Anticipatory, is it? To prevent me from drowning in the misery of the unknown, of not knowing. It has always been like that, and... it's tiring.

Stop taking everything away from me.

I'm trying to live with whatever I could put my hands on right now.

I don't know what else I should be doing.

You took every dream from my hands, blaming me it was my fault because I was not brave enough to grip them tight, while it was you in the first place that makes me unable to grip onto something hard.

I never taught how to keep something. I always taught to let go, to be patient, that everything isn't mine.

But why can't it be?

Take a deep breath, nice and slow, for every single little thing you've noticed and served before you has their own purpose in your life. It is tormenting, but when is it not? It's just another Thursday for you to bear, another rainy day for you to fear. Here, in the face of the world, you felt the heaviest weight once again dropped onto your chest.

But again, you controlled your breath, and everything just slowly calmed down. Again, you managed to handle yourself, despite the weariness, the exhaustion, the dizziness, the nauseous urge to vomit and just pass out. It felt so tiring, so overwhelming... and you couldn't lie down and rest like you used to when you're home alone.

In this state of yours, it's almost like you're not supposed to be here; with those kinds of open wounds, you're losing too much of everything to keep maintaining the same facade. This will continue to happen, until someone notices, because you would never bother to reach out.

Not anymore.

Your eyes feel heavy, throat lump with discomfort, heart clenched tight and chest pressed against an overweight... but you remain still, trying to just keep everything flowing through your fingertips, but your eyes spoke louder than everything, and yet...

... no one will see. It's always like that.

It's too much... too much. You hated this episode so badly, wanted it to end, or else you couldn't function as you should be. But how else? You're clueless as to find what shall be done to return yourself.

Out there, through the thread where I've written our fate, the branch exists from my timeline, carrying the story of us. Somewhere, we grow up together, laughter and sadness wafting through our soul, painting my forgotten memories with something I imagined to experience. With you.

But it's somewhere, within the thread of fate I've written, I called out to you and you'll turn around, with a smile as big as the sea, eyes sparkling and gleaming bright like the sun—and I was there in between, like the horizon where the sea and sky meet, and the sun gently taking its rest.

You and I, somewhere out there, chasing after our fate between the small of our fingers, reaching towards something—that we don't own here. Where we, don't even exist.

Through that thread of fate I've written, I wish us to struggle side by side, enduring the bitter and worse of life with loud, high-pitched yelling, until we both realize that the worst could happen is us being separated. The idea of us being away with each other would gnaw deep in our souls. We can't bear the idea of being away from one another, overpowering the idea of winning.

How I feel when I first saw you... is comfort. Your smile, the way you carry yourself altogether, it makes me smile and at ease, as if the world isn't gnawing at my chest to rip my heart off. With others, sure, they are unique with their own characteristics and traits, things they do that makes them remarkable in my memory.

But you? Gosh, you are the sweetest.

You make me feel like I'm home, somewhere I wish to have in every step of my life. How you interact with me ignites the way I thought I'd never have, or expect to have. You make me feel so, so comfortable; the way you'll tell the stars about my bad habits and proceed to promise that I'm special to you either way, was... memorable.

The tears I shed when you were gone were real, I thought I'll never see you again. I memorize you in things as a proof of how deep an impact you have within me, within my life. Because you are special.

Then, when I leave... you return. Not immediate, yet, I could only drown in misery because I can no longer see you again, due to circumstances. But, I see that fate eventually wish us to meet again. And I'm so glad, I could spend all of my time, my usual pointless moments with you. When I learn, how far you'll go just to protect those you love... I feel the same.

I'd do the same. For you.

Perhaps it is a grave mistake, but it is for the sake of myself as well. Perhaps it will do nothing much, but I've been wanting this, to be with you. Those moments we lost in the past due to circumstances... I'll make it up from this time forward.

It's late. And I need help. From someone, anyone... that I can trust. Because I felt the tightness in my throat become too... too much. My eyes couldn't even water anymore, it's too exhausting to even shed tears. Or even breathe... or typing.

Hah, I lose all energy upon writing this... word by word, as my head spinning with emptiness and crowd of things I wish I can scream out loud, in front of those who should hear—and wish they would understand the deep cut they have made inside of me; leaving me hollow and bleeding continuously as I kept ensuring my body continue to produce blood.

How I... saw the image, of myself, in my mind; how I was lying down the bed—mentally drained, and I saw her, me, straddling me and uses both her hands to choke me. She cried. She was crying, just like I did a few days ago. She was suffocating despite doing the choking on me, while I'm beneath her, watching her suffering before me and yet...

... I'm so powerless.

It's ridiculous, this life of mine. I tried to reach out, but my hands got ignored, sometimes slapped harshly, or they'll hold it only to leave them be again. Then, I just stay quiet... it's worse. Everyone thinks I'm fine.

But perhaps, it is my fault for being a coward and succumb to my fear. Yet, when I did try to stand up against my fear... I was defeated, pushed away once more.

I did not succeed.

What it does to me? Lots, a lot, of things. But it was hard for me to do anything anymore, alone, when no one barely trying to hold me. Look into my eyes. Notices my pain... nobody.

I'd like to blame myself again, but she's already crying, and I... need to stop tormenting her like this just because I know the world is as struggling as I am.

She's all by herself, has no one to hold on to... except me. I can't do this to her any longer. I'm sorry, but yet, I am, also... powerless. I've taken too much damage and I still continue forcing myself to get it all together.

Well, I thought I've escaped. But I am, still walking by the edge of the cliff, with each loneliness trapping me within. Sure, there is a path ahead... but something holds me back from moving forward. I... hesitate. I am scared. I am terrific, yet terrified, of what might await in the future.

Perhaps it's laziness, perhaps it's exhaustion—perhaps, more perhaps; just excuses. I can't get anything done. It's noon, but my deranged soul already howling for attention, gnawing my throat to let me speak—something, voice my fear and worry to someone—something.

It never gone, just unresolved. I've seen the path, I want it... I want to walk forward. Let me walk by this path, I want it. I need it, I am so... so... need it.

But why again, why is my heart hurting again? Was my logic handled everything so good it missed the pained heart? We have dealt with this once, aren't we? Then why... why are we still hurting?

Is it because no one believed in us? No one supports us in the life choice we planned ahead? Because it's inappropriate? Because it's normally unacceptable? It's tormenting. The pain never vanished.

I never healed.

I was just found a path where I can continue live... until they have to bind the same hold around my throat to remind me where I... belong.

I want to leave.

I don't want to stay here any longer.

But it was never easy. I can't make a haste decision that will lead me into regret and hatred. This is the payment I have to pay, for being so... calculating, regardless the suffocation threatening to snap me any moment.

I just want unconditional love. I need them. But no one knows what it looks like, how to express them—even myself. But I tried, for myself, for the sake of my shattered soul, I'll love myself unconditionally, for the sake of the path we've just discovered.

That's why we work hard, because we needed something missing—not materialistically, but psychologically—which is limitless. It doesn't have parameters, standards; each person with their own specific traits. And there's me, with the most complex, complicated simplicity psychological need.

With everything, I tried to make myself happy mentally—through materialistic things. But it won't fulfill what the soul needs—the cost of being too mature, too logical, too aware, too critical; is knowing what you need and why you can't need them.

Lastly, trust me.

The future I want... it's not an easy path. I need help, I need a hand to hold, I need someone to talk, I need... company.

But, I don't trust anyone.

And with that, I'm still trying to break free from the invisible cage, trying so hard to vomit the key out of my throat without killing myself. I want to live. I want to be what I wish I could. I'll achieve it alone.

Do you know what's so terrible about writing? The fact you can make countless alternatives, endless possibilities, limitless reality... it won't change the canon. Ever.

Write as many, as much as you need, about how you live the life you wish you were born with it. But it won't happening. To you. It happening somewhere, in a different lifetime, a different branch created from this one single line of the reality you're born with.

And each time the story comes to an end, it leaves you hollow. Because no one is there to make it happen. Not a single nerve in you dare, brave, strong enough to make it happen. Because for everything you've think through... something always cost something. For something, you had to pay for something; sacrifice something.

You've been taught to maintain harmony all of your life. You've been taught to keep everyone happy, because you're the one responsible. You're the oldest. You're the woman of the house. Sooner or later, everyone will depended on you.

And it's like fate was being cruel by writing your destiny without asking you, things happens right before your eyes. What you want, well, you'll have them. But you learnt that not everything is possible, that you can't own everything, you can't have everything.

You learned to accept it. You learned to let go. At first, it's just cost some little disappointment, but it'll pass. It always do.

Until this one. Until this one slowly wrapped around your throat, tight, strangle you without you realize and you just... learn to live with it. Because you learned that not everything are possible to be fulfilled. You learned to accept it. You learned that there's nothing else you can do. You learned, learned, and learned.

But, for fucking's sake... don't you wish you can burn everything to the ground, screaming until your voice sore, crying until your eyes sting, until you can't breathe—and someone still there, looking at you as if your pain are theirs?

None.

That's why you write.

Winds passed by, while she sat inside the vehicle. Everything was a blur, the commotion becomes distant background noise despite it's just one arm away. How the heart chose such a wrong time to suffocate the lungs, how the throat chose to collapse when she's still wide awake, how the eyes decide to pour every single physical manifestation into tears.

Some saw the tears. But what can they do? She won't answer the question with honesty, and they don't know exactly what is this honesty despite them being suspicious, wondering. But they saw her tears, heard her tears, known well—so damn well—how she looked like in tears.

Though, what can they do?

Just like she used to, they remain silent. And she doesn't blame them. Then, as they go by their life's problem... she cried in silence, the physical pain slowly pouring into streams of water droplets down her pretty cheeks. It's the exhaustion, the tiredness coming from the deep-buried feelings from when she was a teenager.

Because there shouldn't be anything wrong with her, in their perspectives. She has... everything.

Yet, she imagined how it feels like to be with someone, with her face being cradled gently—lovingly, wishing her to stop crying because someone's there just for her... but it's such a ridiculous imagination. Because the more she imagined someone was there for her, the more she realizes how empty her life was.

When she had to spend a very long, long time... whenever the thought of bleeding herself to death coming into her mind. And with that, she's wondering... pondering...