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Don't Come Close
I enjoy being happy as much as I enjoy being sad.
At times when I'm in a state of extreme sorrow, I plead you, don't ever try to make me feel better.
I am capable of handling my own emotions. I need some time alone.
I'll talk to you when I feel like to,
or when I know I'm starting to sink to the very bottom
and forget about how to swim to the surface.
But never have I ever been so depressed to a point that I no longer find my way out,
so please just give me space
and give me time to sort things out,
because I know myself, crystal clear,
because I know that eventually, I'll be just fine like I've always been.
Now I'm just exhausted, and so sick of being stuck in the same phase of love - again and again,
if you ask me what is wrong, I shall have to expose my wounds to you,
and every time by doing so, it hurts,
it hurts so goddamn much.
This pain is not like any other pain,
it doesn't hurt like a paper cut, nor does it ache like a punch on the shoulder.
This pain is something I cannot bear.
So shall I plead you, don't come any closer even if you're my friend.
I will have it sorted on my own. I'm one year to being a young adult.
Just let me rest, and take a step back.
Perhaps I'll realize, that in the end, life is not always about the enjoyment and suffering.
I'll call you, I'll text you, I'll talk to you,
whenever the wounds are healed.
By then, I will have my scars shown to you,
with words coming from once a damaged human being
to a fearless soul,
loud, and proud:
"Scars is a beauty, each one gives me a reason to live,
each one symbolizes how I survived through the world's fatal mistakes."
All I ask for now though, is a break,
my spiritual struggle to be paused for a little while,
so as to breathe in a mouthful of fresh air.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.