I will celebrate my small wins in life, because I've been silent about my sufferings.
People don't know how hard life was for me, because all they've known was that I was strong, I didn't even blink when in fear, and they haven't seen me cry over things. I've got bigger problems in this life, too, but I didn't let them see the whole picture of it—they only saw the tip of the iceberg, only introduction scenes about my "small incovenience", and only few lines of the whole narrative about my struggles. A little "I'm fine" sentiments can actually shrug off someone's way of digging up the whole story, because telling it might actually brought me to tears that time—worse, it could have broken me down, and I would not know how to lift myself up again.
So I quietly endured the torment; I spoke nothing about what I went through, and it was not because no one sincerely asked how I was. It's just that, I've got no words to describe it that time—I didn't have enough energy to talk about it. I've been in hell, I was not well. I've been in chaos, I was hit by this life's storm, I was left a mess. I've been in distress, and the stress almost took every once of hope I had in me.
No one had noticed, but I stood firm upfront them, even if I was blood-soaked from wars waging—I remained still, despite the chaos and storms I was in. I was not pretending that time that I was strong; I was doing my best to keep my balance and not lose it all.
I've been a brave soul for overcoming my silent fights and the conflicts inside my own mind. I won over those, so I will shout about my victories. I will honor myself for deciding to mend, instead of choosing the end—I'm proud of myself for not giving it all up, for choosing, once more, stand up.
—Ren Ednalig | 288
