Maria and I

Dear Maria 16

Dear Maria,

Anger flares through every inch of my nerves. Depression starting to cloud in my mind. I feel sick to the core and despair chokes me until I suffocate. I couldn’t do it.

Why?

That is the question.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Disappointment and irritations plastered on their faces as hateful eyes peeked from behind the curtain of their bangs at me. I swallowed the bile that rose steadily to my throat. In the first place, I never wanted to have him reported. It was decided that he had to be reported as it was the ‘right things to do’. And I couldn’t help but worry about his well-being as a first experience. I knew how it hurt and how much pain it held. I couldn’t crush him, nonetheless enemies or not. Secondly, institution-related matters were always part of my life. I always get to be personally known by the principal. I was always associated with some sort of problem where I end up counseled. And they never end well. Also, I was NEVER the type to react harshly to a situation where it does not concern my academics. You have to understand, Maria, I do not care about myself at all! I really do not care if I am suicidal, if I were to die in the next blink of an eye. I have no more desires I need. Ever since I could remember, I was never given a reason to live. Friends were collected to comfort me. I do not have to commit, and I shall not. I hated being alive. Somehow, I’ve managed to repress the thoughts and the depression. But the deadly wishes still flow through my body, strangling my bones and drowning my blood along with my will to live. I just won’t think about it because ‘everything is fine’.

However…I really wish I knew what the seriousness of the situation feels like. Emotions and feelings had long gone left the system of my body. Every day, I only present the emotions I practice in the mirror the night before. That is probably why I smile more than anything else. It’s an auto expression when I can’t feel anything which is more than most of the time. I can’t even cry, all I let out are strangled noises, like a chocking baby. I can’t let it out. No one should hear me. I must not be heard. I must not let anyone see me like this. The princess must be kept tightly inside. She will not be free. Ever.

                                                         Yours sincerely,

                                                          The imprisoned princess