Doe.

When One Note decided to shut itself down aka me forgetting my password for all the thoughts I had that never wanted to read back (but continue to write about anyway), I knew I was screwed. How else do I get the heaviness out of my chest? Honestly? I don’t know too.

What kind of therapy is left for someone as hopeless as I am? I badly wanted to write about how bad I felt, but not for you to read. I badly wanted to write about how angry I felt. How down I got. Like, early 4 AM break downs because I badly wanted to punch someone. Or how I can’t help but cry because of how dismayed I am. I no longer know how to string up words to heal myself. Nor do I remember how to paint out the demon that possesses me. I have forgotten how to let music take me to places when I’m not okay. Because I’ve forgotten how to be happy.

I try to. But I felt as if I wore Slytherin’s locket and plunged into the icy cold lake. I felt like jumping to get Gryffindor’s sword. What a shame, I forgot the locket that caused so much negativity to Harry almost killed him, even if he was after what would have saved him.

Because sadly, life’s like that. Sometimes, you don’t think. You just jump on what you think could save you but last minute, you’d realize, you’ll drown. That what you’re carrying would kill you. It’d kill you right when you’re faced with your cure.

I wonder how many words do I have to write to get healing.

Or maybe, all I have to do is be honest with myself. That hey, I got hurt. That you, asshole, you broke my trust again. And I know eventually, I’d be numb once more. That once again, I’ll look at you, feeling nothing. No pain, no love. Nothing. And that moment I’d want to walk away, you’d strike last and remove all the scab.

I knew what I was going after. I knew I’d get hurt. But I also hoped, as I walked, that I wouldn’t.

Wasn’t something obviously up? After all, you remained silent after all my request. All I wanted was for you to tell me before I find out. All I wanted was that security that you’d be decent enough to tell me when you’re doing something I don’t like. All I wanted was for you to be brave enough, to be gentle enough, to be understanding enough, to know how to love enough. But of course, I was wrong. Like the many times I tried to make an excuse, I was wrong.

How sad (do I even dare say sad?) was it that I want to make myself feel better. But not through getting back. I don’t even feel wanting to take back what you took away. I don’t even feel like undoing what you’ve done. In fact, I feel nothing. I feel nothing but emptiness.

Funny, isn’t it? How heavy it feels when you say empty?

Today, I’d face you with a smile and do my best to not break down. I’d put that facade and I’ll do my best to do so. Today, I’ll move away from the sword and simply give up the locket.

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