How are you lately? I wish I could ask you this face to face. But I know that this wouldn’t happen for now, at least for the next few months to come.
I miss you, my friend. I miss the time when we laughed at the silliest joke. I miss the time when I can care for you as your best friend and soulmate. I miss the time when we were just friends, when everything was just nice.
I wish I could tell you what I felt on the messages you sent to me on the 15th of December. I am going to tell you what happened to me on that day in this blog entry, and I hope you will get to read it one day. I am not doing this out of spite, I am doing this because I want to erase our misunderstandings, and this is the reason why we are in such awkward situation now.
15 December 2017. You sent a long, brutally honest message to me. I just woke up from my nap, and I was delighted and surprised to receive your text because we haven’t been talking for days. I read the message once, and it was at that very moment, the darkness won the battle that I have been fighting last year. I sat up from my bed, took a step to my study table, and took out my pen. I was writing my suicide note. I was saying goodbye to everyone.
I walked out of my room. I knew what I was going to do. I unlocked the front door, and my housemate asked me where am I going. “I just want to take a walk”, I said. When I know that this could be the last few minutes of my life, a part of me acted out of protection. That part of me texted my friends and bid farewell to them. Ironically, that message saved my life.
Every step I took, every touch I felt was so distinctive. I went up to the highest floor of the building, and it was under construction. “Could this be a sign that God wants me to continue living? Because it wasn’t under construction a few days ago”, I thought to myself. I walked down one floor, and there were some construction workers there. “I can’t do it in front of them. They will pull me back”, I whispered. Then, I went back to the 33rd floor, the same floor as my unit. I was standing at the deck, looking out from the fence that reaches my chest. I could feel my heartbeat. I could feel that my breathing is getting faster. I could even sense that my fight or flight mechanism is activated. “Take a deep breath, cross over the fence and close your eyes”, I told myself. Yet, I hesitated. I asked if it has to end this way. I wanted the pain to stop immediately. I wanted to end my life.
My phone was vibrating with incoming calls. It was my friends. They must be worried sick now. One missed call. Two missed calls. Three, four and five missed calls followed by countless of messages.
“Don’t do this. There must be another way out. There must be another solution”, I read the messages.
I couldn’t bare letting them worried about me, so I picked up one of their phone calls. She sounded scared. She asked me where am I, what am I doing, what are those noises in the background. I did not answer her questions. I was ashamed of what I was intending to do. Tears were streaming down my face. And I asked her, “does it hurt to die?” I was 21, tired, bruised, and dying.
I got pulled back into the house shortly after by my sister and my housemate. My friend reached them in time and told them what I might be doing. I was saved, temporarily. I was safe, for a moment.
I barely eat and talk for weeks. My brain and my body were shut down. I was emotionally numb, again. I relapsed, again. I let my brain went through a traumatic event, again. It was during this time that people were acting out of protection, even when it was without my consent. They might have hurt you, in some way. They might have disturbed your life, one way or another. Please forgive them. They were protecting me in the best way they could. And if you were there, I believe you would have done the same too. “If depression is in a human form, I will kill it right away”, you said.
Dear Sam, I am saying all these things not because I want you to feel sorry for what you have done. I do not want to hurt you. I only intend to tell my side of story in hope that you will tell me yours too.
You must be hurting too when you realised that I was distancing myself from you on social media. It must be hard for you to know that I don’t want to be friends with you on social media anymore. The truth is, when I saw that you are trying to rekindle your relationship with him, I broke down. It was too fast for me to accept the fact. It was too triggering for me to see that he is making you happy. I had to do what was right for my mental health. I had to be selfish and protect myself.
But I still want to be friends with you in real life. I know that we need to destroy whatever we had before and start from ground zero. I know that it will be extremely hard for us to be friends again. But when friendship is not reciprocated, I don’t know what should I do next. The word acquaintances do not exist under your name. But there is one thing I know for sure, I will never leave you. I will always be here looking out for you. Yes, I left on social media, but I am still here in real life. I am still here, waiting for you to be ready to be friends again.
Dear Sam, I am sorry for what I have done. I was focusing on myself and I forgot that you are hurting too. I am sorry, I truly am. And as far as I know, I still care for you as a friend. I miss our friendship. I miss those good old days when we were best friends. I miss you. And all of these are coming from me as a friend, nothing more than that.
If you have read this, please text me or call me. Let’s talk.
“Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me, that I wanna keep, please don’t leave.”