I am finally in your bed with fresh nails and hot shower after a long day while your October playlist playing from your Soundcloud account... and then you left me again after an emergency call for intracranial hemorrhage. Five hours ago all we had is each other’s company and another walk by the park with hot coffee and cheap sandwich combo from a convenience store we always hated. A few hours ago we walked along the road overlooking the twin towers waiting for our jagung bakar by the street, I still remember that warmth when I sat next to you on a rainy night like this. It was just another night you try making up with me after throwing out my Serax out of your car and shouted “just depend on me, isn’t that not enough?”
You know I am just not that kind of a person who would go crying my mascara off in the shower and playing sad songs in bed. Most of the time, I just don’t want to talk to anyone for days and other times it’s desperately needing to be around people. Sometimes it’s another episode of having no appetite even though I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday and sometimes it’s eating everything I have in the fridge. You know my anxieties isn’t about having you holding me and telling me that it’s going to be okay. It’s sitting across the table, not eating, having you asked what’s wrong and knowing that I’m ruining your night because I can’t seem to snap out of it and just be happy. It’s the frustrating feeling of desperately wanting to enjoy something and just fucking be normal for once.
It’s keeping things a secret from the people you love because you don’t want them to look at you like you’re broken. No, depression isn’t beautiful black and white images. Depression is lonely and frustrating and mostly just fucking exhausting. A second it was all fireworks and caramel scents lingering on your cloths after laying under your arms all night and next all I could see is black and grey shivers creeping in and I was left alone in a dark room with coldness. Nights like this are sucks because I could be half way done dancing in my underwear and making cookies in your kitchen and all of the sudden everything is pointless and I feel so lost and worthless and have no motivation to breath and it’s like... why? These cookies were going to be great... And I was cornered near the oven to warm my own self.
The last thing I remembered, I was in a tub under hot shower-rain, shivering when I heard you running. I was in your arms for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all we do. You don’t pull away. You don’t look at my face. You don’t try to kiss me. All you do is wrap me up in you arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it. You knew, you knew nights are the worst that’s why you came running, hysterically. Maybe, just maybe this would be the last time. I’m sorry.