Once you let go
It'll become easy
No sudden calls, or silent wars
The day shall end just fine
It's crazy
How cure becomes poison
You start thinking it's fine
Then you overdose
But you act like you need more
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The waters look darker than usual. I'm trying to hold my urge to just jump down and be forgotten with the currents. With it, to bring me along towards the end of my sanity, that I've been carrying for years, to no end, I'm still that kid that was uncared for. Is sewing myself up still not enough to fit in?
How many pairs of eyes would tear up after hearing my disappearance? How many lips would open up and ask the reason behind it? How many hearts would be genuinely broken because of this loss? My life's nothing but a mere copper coin lost in a sea of treasures, who then would mind looking for me?
I don't wish to be remembered, to be mourned for, to be held and talked about. This is a road where nothing lies but false hope, so I'll be gone in the spot where no one would look at but insects and creepers that'll take me back home to the ashes where I came from.
If one was so astonished with life, why are we not looking forward to death? After all, these pains and hard work are simply decorations to that impending finish line. Everyone's the same in front of the scythe.
Why did you work hard for? Why did you keep on fighting on? Why did you live for them? Are we not on our own every single day? We can cross the street with the rest of the day running through our heads and in a little while it's a bullet that will pass through and break the momentum. We can be breathing for a second, and not the minute after.
It's nostalgic. Life's a huge melancholic memory. It never keeps on going. It's just a movie that's hyped and forgotten after the rolling of the end credits. Is it really worth it?
If the darkness had already enveloped this microcosm of mine with coldness, will I ever know the feeling of warmth once more? The shattering of glasses, crumpled papers, broken façade that has been hidden for years never disappeared. It only piled up, that even without jumping yet from the bridge I already feel like drowning, suffocating from the whole play-pretend.
The palette for this story has already reached the darker shades, sinister at times, and it sounds so sweet to think of dying. The shattered heart, crumpled thought, broken soul that has been slowly withering for years only tortured me more. Hiding beneath the thick blanket did not help, but just emphasized how being alone felt. Who would understand? No one, for I myself can never give meaning to the purpose of living just to end up lifeless and unmoving.
Value never shoots up, the worth perhaps, but the value just depreciates. And it's a loss. A big loss. We just can't separate the concept of life and death, since they go along together every single moment we breathe.
Will it come for me soon? Will it allow me to hang by the thread of its shawl? Will it cover me with its wings and allow me to be gone? Once I die would they care? No, perhaps for a day or two, or a month or more they'll mourn for their loss, but after that, it'll just be a passing memory of me.
Then I'll just be another forgotten ghost.
--
In the middle of the room was a metal table, with nothing but a single recorder and whose edges were covered with what seemed to be foam, most likely placed there to avoid having anyone hurting their selves, or cause harm to others intentionally while in there. Even the feet of it seemed to be bolted on to the floor making it immobile.
There are two people seated across each other in what each other think as a comfortable position, the one wearing a plain cotton shirt and pants moving back and forth rhythmically to the sound of her fingers tapping the table. Surrounded by nothing but white walls, the younger opens a notepad she had brought and prepared to jot down anything she could catch on. It has always been the easier process for her. She waits until the attention of the other focuses on her and starts to ask.
"How would you describe yourself?"
She waits for an answer but gets a random question in return.
"Do you know why butterflies are pretty?"
"Huh? What do you-"
"They show their grandeur, then die swiftly. Just like a passing memory of a human life. Hiding frailness through beauty... through existing under the spotlight."
It was not how the talk was supposed to flow, but it's better than not receiving a response or reaction at all. She just needs to make the questions lead towards the answers she needs.
"And? What are you trying to say?"
"I'm not a butterfly. Would you kill me instead? After all, all this consistency and monotony is tiring me out. I don't want to keep on living like this."
"...like what?"
"Walking continuously and leaving others behind. Every single time."
"Have you ever tried committing suicide then?"
"I just can't die. That's the point. I just don't die. No matter what I try to do, I just live. More than the weariness of looking for ways to resolve this, it's fucking with my head and I can't bear to go crazy and wander aimlessly for centuries."
Well guess what, I think you don't need to think of that as a problem- you're crazy as hell already. Why do you think your stuck here in this facility? You may be one of them but you're not immortal. None of you are.
She wanted to throw those words on the patient's face, but she needs to be composed. Like she had always been when necessary.
"Have you ever thought of seeking for help in your own accord and simply not because you were required to do so?"
"You also think I'm crazy, don't you? Think what you want to think. It's not like it'll be my loss anyways. I wanted to think that you're different from the others but you're forcing yourself to be just like them but I'm telling you now, it won't work. At all. Not when you're obviously so, so different."
Her gaze was unnerving, as if trying to uncover her, that she even thought for a moment that going here was not the best decision.
"…why did I even agree to this."
And with a strong huff the younger one has stood out, ready to move out of the visitation area, mind crumpled in irritation due to the fruitless effort of hers. Though she did pause and looked back at the other, before speaking again.
"If ever you're still open for another conversation once you reach some clarity of your own, I will appreciate it if you don't deny another visit from me."
The other, however, doesn't answer in return and only swayed back and forth in her seat, as if she's already alone.
With a heavy heart towards an unfinished work, she closes the door behind her.
Without looking back, her hands clasped tightly around the straps of an overly used backpack.
Perhaps, after another month, or even a week, of moving around with her work stuff it would really be in tatters, but for now with the need to save more, she can live with it even for a year more.
Usability over durability.
Not the best description but has always been the option in her vocabulary. Just like how she thinks of herself. She just wonders, for how long will the cracks she had covered hang on before they burst open for everyone to see.
--
The smell of disinfectant almost made her feel nostalgic, but she pushed down any memory that even tried resurfacing for a moment. Even until now, having already passed by the hallway, it seems like she can still smell the strong disinfectant permeating from the floors and walls of the facility, yet she doesn't really mind the scent of it at all. After the years of doing works here and there together with the conditions by which she grew up with, she had already encountered matters most would not even try to look at or be tangled with, thus the tough façade.
However, being unaffected by the harshness of reality doesn't equate to being socially adept. In fact, she's far from it. Despite being quite far from where she started with, that's one of the things she can't still grasp well.
She was only able to breathe deeply and with ease again after leaving the gates of the mental health center.
"Ji, over here!"
Oh how she wish to have another work where she doesn't need to face or talk to others.
"Hey, I thought you'll be with Amery until-"
"No, no, don't mind her. After all, I'd rather work with you than that egoistic witch."
It was no laughing matter, and the wide smile she received as a response from her cold expression did not do justice in the fact that she wants to strangle the other so much right at that moment. If only she was not younger against her by four years, it would be a totally different story. Seniority be fucked.
Maybe she could cover her mouth with the donut from the box in her left hand just to shut her up, or to take her attention away from the need to talk with her. But she'll reserve that thought for another day.
"Did you just leave her to finish that business all on her own? When you knew that she'll be facing that man? Are you out of your mind Hina?"
"... I might have overlooked that because of her loud mouth and overflowing sass. Alright, you can stop looking at me like a bug or some pest. I know it takes some time for me to dust off all these 'glitters' but I'm like a moth, I can't help it. It's part of my being. Hop in the car, we'll be her back-up."
"If she decides to hang you by the window on the top floor tomorrow, don't ever shout my name. You would be, just a fleeting memory, so trust on your own yoga skills and training in pilates to save your ass, 'cause you're not gifted with wings despite of your origin. As a workmate, I sincerely wish that you... may you rest in peace in advance."
"You know you love me Jia, so for the fact that I love you dear shut up and just buckle up for your own safety."
It hasn't been that long since the sun has just started peeking, and it was too early to actually crash out but it feels like her migraine's about to kick in again. Her patience is hanging by a thread, and at the moment, Jia thanks the heavens for making her naturally expressionless looking. Who the hell cares about being adorable or sweet-looking, it will only make her a feast for greedy and hopeless hyenas. To survive, she needs to be a part of that pack herself.
It doesn't necessarily mean that she has to be one, she just needs to make everyone else think that she is one.
--