I wasn't searching, yet I found.
I wasn't sure, now I'm certain.
Every moment felt like a pierce in my skin; now it feels like the air is surrounded by an ocean.
While I wasn't knocking, it was opened.
I slept with pools of tears, but waking up every day to the sun's kiss feels magical.
The consistent pen of my pain, in hope of not forgetting...
The thunderous spoken words of how useless I am, of how the universe doesn't want a person like me, how the best cure for the shame is to die.
The suicidal thoughts ran through my mind hundreds of times, maybe thousands; I lost count of the exact number.
The heartache that doesn't go away, the peace found in the arms of strangers; how outside felt like home when there was no peace in the home.
I remember vividly how I was told not to return, to leave and never look back.
But I was a weakling; I couldn't take the brave step.
I couldn't just die; I couldn't leave the world I hate so much behind “the world where everyone in it seems to hate me”.
The one I love so much didn't look my way; was busy, and I felt so neglected.
Maybe I was too young to understand, but what was there to understand?
The pain is locked with a chain key, but it could be opened by anyone who knows how to unchain it.
The life I wanted was wider than the life I saw others living.
A smile was a luxury I couldn't afford to own.
Thinking about it now, I know I lived in my head more than I actually lived; I did a whole lot of thinking.
And how do you explain a 12-year-old's suicidal notes? Written once, twice, and more?
Life has never been fair.
#HealingJourney #Humanexperience
