the first

the first

I hate crying. Especially in front of people. Not because it’s embarassing and because my feelings are invalid. But because it would make me look weak. Everyone saw me as the girl who brings smiles on the table. Who always had her gummy smile light up everywhere she goes. Who finds joy in everything. Who always spread positivity to everyone around her. Who always be available for the people who needs help. Who needs someone to talk to. An adviser. A mentor. A therapist. And everything a person could need.

She hears a lot, keep a lot, until she couldn’t even express herself in a proper way. She would always get her words mixed up as well as her feelings. She would priotized people needs and set it as her own expectations while the reality is: she never expect anything for herself. She would just want to try her best to keep on living. Try her best to not go back to her worst habits.

Trying her very best to not end her life once and for all.

People that she surrounds with are mostly the reason why she is still here, breathing. Not because they helped her. But because she helped them. If it isn’t because of her presence as their person, maybe they wouldn’t have anyone else to survive with. People may not always come to her – but she is always there whenever the time comes.

Sometimes, those people would say how they would want to have her life as it looks like very comforting. And she wouldn’t want to trade her life with anyone else. Not because it is comforting but because it is tiring to be her. To not knowing what you actually want because your whole life has been decided by the elder. Your life is full with expectations from people and ended up it became your own expectations for yourself because the feeling of guilt and needing to pay back all their hardworks. To experienced all the things that couldn’t you say out loud and having it all piled up inside your mind.

It hurts. All of it. But for the sake of people she loves, she keeps on trying and let it all eats her alive. She may seem that none of her problems affect her life – but actually, it’s because they are eating her alive. And slowly, she would pretend that her sparks are still there but the truth is, it’s long gone. All she has now is a pile of her own problems, feelings and emotions all in one – waiting for it to past her limit and all people could see is blood scattered around her bedroom floor.

But before that, she will keep on trying and surviving. Even when it hurts. Even when the people inside her mind said that it would be better if she ends it all so she wouldn’t have to carry all of this scary shit.

So in conclusion, i do hate crying. Because it makes me look weak whether it’s in front of my family, my friends or even my own self. But most of the time, it would just fall by itself and i let it pass. Because that is the only time i would allow myself to feel weak.