22/04/2023
I thought I was so used to being on my own; little did I know I was just waiting for someone to ask me if I am fine, and someone who is all ears as I say the things I have been bottling up inside my chest.
Someone who would sincerely want to know how I feel deep within; how the storms are still roaming around inside my head; how I conceal the mess I have inside my mind by just keeping my countenance calm; and how I suppress the tears by just smiling. Someone who knows the sound of my genuine laughter than those fake ones I bursted. Someone who hears the loudest cry of help in between my silence. Someone who will make me feel safe to be on my weakest, because I can show to them how I fall down on my knees when I am on my lowest—that I no longer need to be strong once I am with them, for doing it at all times is real exhausting.
I don't actually want to be alone—I am just afraid that no one can understand how I feel, because even I can't say it properly at times; that I can't find the right words to directly describe it. Even I can't comprehend what's happening in my life.
— from stranger
