Sorrow

The weather is colder than what she packed for.

She looks out and feels like she can touch the snow falling out of her window.

Winter is cold. But the sharp pain in her chest is much colder.

She never knew that she could feel such tremendous pain. She never expected that she would meet such excruciating depression.
The feeling of longing for acknowledgement.
The profound void of loneliness.
The constant struggle and sadness.
The hate that scarred her.
Even after she seeked help. Even after she talked to someone. Even when she was showered with love.
She feels like no one would ever understand. She knows that the dark clouds won't ever go away. And even when they say they love her... she can't believe them. She can't feel their love.
She feels numb, yet she can feel the throbbing pain.


The people she thought would give her comfort... those she thought she could rely on... those she thought would give her strength.. are also those who tortured her... are also those who demand so much from her... are also those who expected too much from her.
They expected perfection. They expected fortitude. And understanding. And patient. And unconditional love.
But they wouldn't do the same for her.
All they do was talk.
Even when she told them she was in pain. They shrugged her off.  They belittle her. As if she needed a more dramatic reason to be in pain.


"Will anyone cry for me when I'm gone? Will anyone miss me? Will my death mean something to someone or anything at all? Will they finally realise that I exist? Will they finally acknowledge how hard I've worked? Will they finally know how much pain they've caused me? Their sharp words... Their unfair judgement... Their hate...."

She thinks to herself over and over again.

She closes her eyes and hugs herself. "You're good enough. What you did was good enough. You've done well."
She puts herself to sleep.