My life seems so pointless.
I am so tired of waking up.
I wonder when will I die.
I’ll die happy.
No one truly cares for me.
And if they do, they can’t take care of me.
I always have to do it alone.
I can only rely on myself.
I have no one to rely on, and no one is relying on me.
I can’t take it.
I’m tired of life pushing me around.
I’m tired of all the bullshit.
One day, I took pills.
A lot of pretty colored pills.
I drank it up, and lay on my bed.
I was meeting up with death.
I don’t know how death looks like, and I’ll never know because.
I didn’t die.
After I took the pretty pills, I slept.
I felt free for a moment till someone held on to my arm.
I forgot who it was.
But it was my friend.
It was my beautiful friend.
He told me to stay.
He said that I can lean on him.
That I can make it.
If I were to leave him right now, then I shall never see him again
So I did what he told me to do.
And now I wondered if that dream was true.
Maybe that was the miracle of my suicide.
My friend saved me again.
My friend, the man who I fell for.