CHAPTER : 01

I've been thinking about this for a long time.

   I’d be lying if I said I’m not scared.

Scared of something that’s out there-

Waiting.

Waiting for me to be alone, to lose this fight.

  I’ve lived alone since my parents died. I was twelve when it happened—

When I realized I would have to face this life alone.

  I was terrified that day. So many emotions, so many words crashing in at once.

  I broke—

Broke again

and again, Until I shattered into pieces.

That made me realize, Life was never what I imagined it to be.

  Now those pieces...

  I can’t find them anymore.

It hasn’t been long since I stopped feeling all these emotions. Now, I don’t even recognize myself.

Some days, I’m fighting my own nightmares.

Others,

  I’m just lost in my own imagination.

And I think they...

They’re vivid—

They pull me away from this world-

Somewhere ....

Somewhere safe enough, somewhere quiet.

I have lost all my hopes,

The world made me fall apart, with every part I keep collecting all my thoughts, one by one. I was scared to lose myself. Why is it that I'm the only one who can't move?

But everyone around seems to pass me by.

Exactly like the time—I never felt the time pass by so fast, like now.

The chaos is loud, but there is no voice around. The only thing that feels so silent is my voice.

  I want to close my eyes and wish that when I open them, the time would be stopped,

The world would be stopped.

Because I need the time to not move when I heal.

"Sometimes, the time passes so slow," they say.

But maybe... they're just waiting.

"Sometimes, the time passes by so fast," they say.

But maybe... they were living at that moment. Or dying with the weight.

Suffering by the weight of it passing by, but eventually, it did.

  It did pass by.

And I was the only one left behind

I claim that I don't feel things,

sometimes I think it's just a lie.

Maybe I do,

Maybe I do feel things

but I still bury them inside

Under a shield I made -

not to protect myself from pain,

but to protect others from me.

Because I can't -

  I can't let them see the way I really am

i..... I just keep things because I am not something to share

  I don't need me to share me with people

It happens a lot, actually—somewhere, it hurts to be alone.

Not alone physically, but in the sense of not being in anyone’s thoughts.

The feeling of existing without being missed or remembered by anyone.

I wish I had someone to soothe me on the nights I break—

When it hurts too much to reach out, but there's no one to reach.

I crave the touch, but there is no one.

I know I push people away most of the time,

but it doesn’t feel right to be involved with someone I can’t cry in front of.

I… feel, feel, feel—until I’m drained of every emotion.

I spend most of the day emotionless, but I know I’m broken.

And I don’t need someone to glue me back together—

I just need someone willing to puzzle the pieces into place, even if they don’t fit perfectly.

I'm not shattered - I'm scattered, and I need hands gentle enough to gather me.

And I think

What if I don’t seem grateful? Would they blame me for that?

Sometimes I want to slip into my mind and undo what they call treasure—

The pieces of me they’re trying to find.

Maybe I'm not who they think I am.

Maybe I'm not who I think I am.

I'm nothing and everything at the same time.

Numb and full of pain at the same time.

Sad and wondering why this much sad at the same time.

I'm just a dust of wind that will wander even without a life and won't still be full of anything alive.

But I will still be live until I know who am I ?

The reality is eating away at my body. I keep wondering—what am I even trying to find ? I feel guilty. Most of the time, when I’m sad, I ask myself, Why am I even feeling this? The pain gets so heavy that, for a while, I even forget why I started crying in the first place. Why do I have to keep doing all this? Can’t I just sit in peace and not think about the things I have lost ? Why do I have to survive doing something that doesn’t match my mind or my heart?

Still, I try. I know it’s not enough, but at least I’m trying not to die inside. I’m not happy—I know that—but I also don’t want to die. Because even in death, I know I won’t be at peace if my soul doesn’t survive. Maybe I’m hurt more than they think… or more than even I realize.

I want to live. But it’s been years, and it just feels like I’m surviving. I’m not dead inside... maybe. But I don’t feel alive either. If I didn’t survive this life, I know somehow I’d survive something else—but I want to live. With every breath, it feels like I’m underwater, gasping for air. There’s no air in my lungs. It hurts so much, I feel like I’ll burst.

I don’t even know what I’m thinking or doing anymore. Everything feels light and heavy at the same time. Why am I doing all this? Why can’t I feel alive? Even in the happiest moments of my life, there’s this voice in the back of my mind telling me it’s fake. I laugh, but I still feel sad inside. And I’m scared of the people who’ve seen me laughing—because when I’m gone, they’ll think I never cared about life.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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