HER JOURNAL

June 08, 2024

"The last time I checked, she's as fragile as a wine glass. I took another glimpse of her — a wine glass in a box with multiple covers."

Ceasefire seems impossible for the war deep within her. But she stood tall and painted a smile, showing them the facade of someone unbreakable. The knot was tied too tight that her wrist gone red and sore. Yet, she chuckles and she utter, "But I'm not scared if my hands will get severed." Even though deep down, she wished she didn't have to suffer. And someone stabbed her — she didn't say a word but walked away like it didn't matter. She loves herself but she cuts her face in front of the mirror. She would remind herself of her worth every single day but a bit of envy on her way — takes all the selflove away. You'll hear her say, "I know she's better than me." She'll bury all the things she liked about herself because that "someone better" have the things that she don't. And she pushes people away but in her head she's pleading them to stay. She's commited to be known as unfazed even though sometimes her thoughts are opposing the words from her lips. She knows that to hide the pain is a great power, yet, she knows that pretending to be unbothered is a lie she'll never get over. She becomes a monster when people talk shit about her. But when she's alone, she's just a cowardly kid crying alone in the cold winter.

She don't wanna die but she stopped and closed her eyes when a truck is coming over. Thank God came and saved her.

Rain