...Quite quick and steady it is to tell a story made not to spread but just to share. I live in a town—a not so special town. I'm young and free, and know less about the world that I'll soon encounter. Isn't it just exciting?? That we, human beans 🫛, had no idea what's standing in front of us, but still we wake up every day, with no sense of what's to happen....

..."The world is cruel" they say... Do you believe in that? Is it not us that makes it so cruel, that even ourselves couldn't bear it?...

...I myself am sure that I didn't even ask to be born and live such a life. Don't get me wrong tho, I am content— am I really? Less talking about me, how about you? Do you think this world is worthy enough to have you? I'm not insulting you nor lecturing you, I'm just curious too. All these heart aches, confusions, expectations, failures, threads in our heads— do you think there's a better future awaiting us?...

...'I'm a joyful person', said my friends....

...'I'm a "should" successor', said my parents....

...'I'm immature', said someone who I've been with and offered me true love that I'm guilty of not offering the same amount....

...'I'm skinny', said my nephew and neighbors....

...'I'm good at leading', said my classmates....

...'I'm wonderful', said the boy who colored my life for a moment (me and someone's other life too)....

...'I'm a blessing', said my mother....

...'I'm good at writing such', said some people without them knowing I was using artificial intelligence in my drafts when writing in our school's journals....

...'I'm pretty even without my bangs', said a boy from junior high(I'll add that up 'cause I didn't get that a lot)....

...'I'm a Christian', said my father as he pushes me to attend church services, even tho I don't like socializing with thee. I could actually direct him to my excuses that I don't want to, but he's a pastor—one who leads a church. And,...

...'I'm loved', said my sister before she leaves home for her dreams....

...Now, tell me, if you ever met these characters in my story. Will their statements be enough? No. It will not. That's why I tell you right now,...

...Those people might be special to you, and you are told that you're special to them as well. But when they are interrogated about who you may be, do you think they'll answer all of you?...

...How about your sorrows? Is it a pity? Because the truth is:...

...'I'm Weak'...

...'I'm desperate and never get enough'...

...'I'm so afraid of changes'...

...'I'm full of envy and insecurities'...

...'I'm scared and confused''...

...'I am more than anything but less and dipper, supposed to be buried alive as the land was eating me—I forget how to breathe.'...

Yesterday, I'm tired. But I never left home.

Today, I'm exhausted from school.

I was delusional—thinking 'bout me standing in front of everyone, speaking out every single thought I'm holding in. And I told them:

... "I'm scared of changes. For when I entered senior high school and even when my sister left home. ...

...I was there— it's happening so fast. People are aggressively stepping forward. I've got no choice but to go with them, instead of getting dragged forward if I tried to stop....

...I was there— as the waves are flowing so fast. Everyone is swimming with these waves, with these changes. But I could never. I'm facing the clouds and the waves could not touch my face; I am floating. And if you'd ask me why can't I swim? Well, I've tried and sunk for I've got no purpose to. "...

Questions left empty in my mind:

How???

How does everything that happens right now matter, if at the end it'll change anyway?

How should I feel contentment if the next second it's not in front of me anymore?

How exactly?

Maybe I just miss how easy things have been right before it changed.

I miss my friends. Those warm memories locked up in my head. Laughter and joyful thoughts brought me no hope but pain—knowing that time had passed, and moments had become memories.

I miss my sister. I hope I could ask her why? Tho everything is so easy to predict. As nights to nights, shouting from her and father had been louder and louder. But still why? She could hate every one in here, but I'm still here, can't she see? I found these notes I made on my phone saying:

My eyes were tearing up ,

hiding it on camera,

never letting you see.

I weep after you turn off the call,

why is that you have to go so far away?

Even going out with friends couldn't heal me anymore.

Pushing my cheeks up just to show

The smile that's not full anymore.

The fire's burning

Burning in front of us

We even collected the woods

But it stayed where it was putted

The cold water

Sweating in the bottle

A misfortune

A discomfort in my lungs

And my kidney stops to function

I did it again.

I would like to die

Freeze

Deep

Deep in the oceans in Antarctica

You can wake me up

When it's the end of the world.

Putting them all together makes it worse. To my dear readers, I've come to tell you that anything might really be worth the pain. Those notes were written when I was on my lowest. I've had to comprehend that my voyage was not just about sadness. But my book only states sorrows. Why is that? I'm still young, so are you. So next time, I hope the both of us will write down happy thoughts too, shall we?