Melancholic Compendium

/12/ Blood drops

Story # 12

A/N: TRIGGER WARNING!! This will have a sensitive content because it is about self-harm. So, I am already warning you. The content will be sensitive. Please please please if you shouldn't read it, don't. (but I'll be trying to make it more figurative anyways)
P.S. This is a work of mind. Any resemblance with any form of work is coincidental. Sorry for the content in advance. I just need to write this down because the news made me sad.

You have been warned.

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This is so much. This world is such a toxic place for someone like me. For someone who can't fight. For someone who doesn't have the guts to utter the exact words. For someone who's afraid to hurt anyone.

I cannot talk about it too much because anybody will just say "Oh sweetie, you're just sad. Maybe chocolates will make you better" But no. No. No. I knew that chocolates or any other things I love won't help me with this.

So this time, let me tell you the real thing I am facing.

I don't like to consider myself as depressed because little by little, our world is being filled with this kind and it is slowly turning depression into a stereotype. And it isn't good. It just means the world is losing its only hope.

But people, how come they look the same with me. We have eyes, hands, lips, ears, nose, and everything. But why can some be so cruel?

I have been bullied and teased but I remained calm. I remained cool. I didn't want negativity to creep inside my mind because I am not that kind of person.

I am afraid of slashing my wrist with a blade or just imagine myself hanging on the stairs with my neck tied with a rope. I am afraid to do that.

The thing is, bad memories have more impact to those good ones. They remain here, inside my brain. And every night, I keep on crying because of that. I don't show it to anyone. Not my friends, my parents, social media friends, nobody. Why? Because they're all sad. I know that if I share mine with them, there might be a trigger within my words, and I don't want that to happen. But I feel like a cloud already. A Nimbus cloud. It feels so heavy. But where am I to place this?

I love this world, though it's cruel, it's still full of awesome things. My school, my church, my home, my journal, my everything. But cruelty is just creeping onto my mind and it leaves me in tears every night. It bothers me. It suffocates me until I cannot breathe well.

I have a lot of questions and guilt inside my head and I don't know what am I gonna do with these. To those whom I would like to talk, they won't listen. They're busy. To those who know how to listen, I can't. It will be the trigger. So how?!

I'm just tired of asking the same set of questions again and again. I'm tired of working all day long for nothing. I'm tired of everything. If I could just go up there in my sleep, I would happily do that. But I can't, unless I do that.

Do you know that I always slap myself everytime someone gets mad at me? That I talk to myself in the mirror and preach myself to be better in socializing with people even if I don't understand them?

I'm sorry. Very very sorry. Looks like this is the last. Maybe this is the last. I'm in tears right now, and nowhere to go. Even my pen and paper can't help in drying these tears. Am I being too stubborn or dumb? Well, again, sorry for that.

This is how I feel the pain.

By the time you're reading this, I might be gone. Again, I'm sorry. Maybe I could also help reduce the population of the world? Ha ha. I know that isn't a joke but— thank you.

—Jolly

"Oh sh— No. No. No. Nooooo!" I held my head as I cried out loud beside the cold body of my friend inside her bedroom. My whole world died for a minute because of this. Because she's already gone. How come she haven't told me this? How come she end up taking so many sleeping pills and overdosed herself? How come she left us with just like that? I know she's much hurt than I do, but now. Now, how much are we hurt? Isn't it heavier to see one of your most favorite person dead?

I knew she's still hesitant. I knew she didn't want to to this in the first place. She knew that we will get hurt.

Why do this thing can provoke people to end their lives?

I'm sure this will lead to the domino effect. Right now, I'm feeling it. I feel so bad. So sad. So mad. It feels like I'm not good enough to be her friend. To deserve her. A beautiful creation is now gone. And how can I take her back?

Her mother and father. They will start to mourn and cry over one thought. "Are we so cruel to be her parents?" And then they would never know.

And then her siblings who doesn't know anything will see their parents cry and their sister lying cold.

And then to those who isn't close to you but know you will get bothered, thinking that they actually knew someone that have just died. Have just died. Have just died. And then every night, they will stay awake with that thought, thinking that the reason is depression.

And then the teachers will mourn too, thinking that their student didn't reached her dreams yet before she died. But isn't this one of your dreams? To run away from your problems?

Now, see how an overdose can make people you know be crazy and helpless. But what else could we do? We cannot take you back anymore. No matter how bad we want to talk with your problem, nor be with you, we can't.

If only we had the chance to talk. If only I had a strange wish that could be instantly granted, that is to wake you up from your eternal sleep. Remember, I don't want to see your name on a grave. Thinking about it just tears half of my soul.