A Basket Made of Paper

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"Your life is unfair, my life is unfair. That makes our life fair." - Meden C.

Is life really fair?

If all people experiences hardships just like me then why is there poor and rich? Ugly and beautiful? Smart and dumb? Weak and strong?

Yes. Nobody has a perfect life but how come some people can experience a life-threatening chaos and others are just a pinch?

God has never bestow disasters at you that you cannot solve.

Are you sure?

Unfortunately, that is not true. If it is, why would people commit suicide?

Because they are tanga? Bobo? Walang kwenta?

That is how you describe those people who only wants to be free. From the endless wars deep inside them.

You easily judge people based on their actions.

Papansin. Walang makagawa sa buhay. Walang utang na loob sa diyos.

Its not a person's fault if he or she cant handle anymore hardships in life. They are not strong enough just like you. They are once strong but as life - no - as everybody pushes them down they become weak and fragile.

Have you experience a night that clouds you nightmares? Days that feel like stormy seasons? And your everyday journey turns dull and lifeless?

You did but not everyday. Maybe once? Maybe twice? Four times? But those people, they did. Everyday, every single moment of their lives. Every time they spend on this fucking life. As days passed by it turns darker and darker until no light can pass through inside.

It is sad to say that it is true, we need attention. We need affection. We need your presence. We need your time. We need love. Because for all I know, we have never been wanted into this world. It hates us so did the people around us.

All we need is a simple appreciation of others, acknowledgement of people and an embrace for a happy life.

We asked for it, silently. Afraid to say it out loud because you might reject that and be annoyed. We keep on shouting but it seems that people are enjoying our soundless singing.

We have asked for help but it seems like you haven't realize that what we need is a savior and not a shoulder to cry on.

You have taken it lightly. You never took my silent messages seriously. Did you know that I was asking already? That I am shouting, 'Please, help me' and 'Save me from this war called depression'.

Are you aware that I'm already cursing life and telling everybody that this fucking life is unfair and will never be fair, forever?

You don't. Because first of all, you only see the picture I painted for my story.