"The end is not the end, I promise"

I've never been open, vulnerable, raw and laid bare, exposing everything that I am to the world. There was always something so utterly terrifying about honesty, about openness and vulnerability that made it so hard for me to breathe. 

I can't deny that although there were light in the most darkest days, the light was flickering, only remaining bright for only a few days only with certain companions, nevertheless, the darkness consumed it all, a black abyss.

Often times I find myself cowering back, recoiling at every touch once I choose to bare my soul open to people. I regret ever letting them in and let their words and actions influence everything that I am. I regretted ever letting people know just how much I wanted to leave, because they talked me into staying. Some tell me that it's worth it to stay long enough to see the good things, the brighter part of life, some just find that the pain of losing me would be unbearable. Most of all, I just think that the reason they ever begged me to stay alive was just so they wouldn't be consumed by the guilt of missing the signs, for not doing enough, for all the things they felt responsible over my actions.

 I don't think they ever realized just how much they were asking of me, to stay alive, to breathe in another day, to hold on, to stay alive for them. I don't think they ever realized just how big the chunks were taken from me just to wake up and face another day. I don't think they fully took in just how painful it was to keep going. 

It wasn't like I haven't tried enough, it wasn't like I haven't went through enough, it wasn't like I had much strength left in me to go through anything anymore. It was exhausting to wake up every single day only to feel so weak and painful that you can't get out of bed at all, nor eat, or go to the toilet, or do anything at all. Most days, I'm left in bed, staring at the ceiling, hating hearing my own heart beating, just wishing to not exist at all. 

I often think of how liberating it would be to erase my own existence. It'd be easier, not one single soul would have memories of me, no worries of hurting anyone with my departure, not think of my own remnants. Just to not exist at all. Or to just erase people's memories of me. 

There was too much pain, too overwhelming, too unbearable. I grew tired of getting used, abused, hurt, stepped all over, pushed aside, abandoned, forgotten... I grew tired of sacrificing my own needs and happiness for the sake of others, putting effort into each soul I've come across only to receive hollowness within me. I grew tired of holding on for all the wrong reasons. It's been years and years of trying to change, trying to be okay, praying and begging for just a little break. But the worse kept coming, trying to push the waters into my burning lungs, again and again and again and again, without pause, without hesitance, without care, without patience. It felt like I was constantly gasping for air each day that I wake up. And I could barely remember the last time I was pulled onto the surface to see the sky, the sun, the stars, the clouds... I could barely remember the last time I could breathe with ease.

I kept questioning;

"Haven't I been through enough?"

"Isn't this pain enough?"

"Why isn't it enough?"

For all the pain I've felt, the anger, the rage, the insecurities, the doubts, the pressure, every single emotions that hurt me, I wish I could give it back to them. I wish I could give them a taste of their own medicine just for them to know how much it's tearing me apart, how much it broke me, how much it ruined everything within me. I wish I could put the blame all on them. I wish I could hurt them as much as they hurt me. But I knew how deep of a scar it'll leave them, how permanent those damages would be, how long it'll take for them to completely heal. I fucking knew just how painful it was, and fuck this weak heart of mine, I couldn't bear to lay it upon others. I couldn't bear with myself to let others felt what I felt from their own actions and words. In the end, it was my fault for letting it hurt me like that. So, I took everything in, letting it eat me up inside for all the wrongdoings, the mistakes, the carelessness of others. It was my fault for not letting them know what they did wrong, it was my fault for choosing to be silent about it rather than speak up just because I was too afraid of hurting others. I grew to be outspoken, I tried to set the boundaries and limits just so they couldn't hurt me again but it always ended with arguments, losing relationships and losing people, and I'm left with nothing but pain in my hands. 

It was easy to break me. It became too easy to hurt me. I became too fragile, too weak, too vulnerable. The littlest things became the last twig that breaks. 

And I guess, I've decided that I had enough. I guess something finally breaks and I couldn't let myself get hurt anymore. All I ever asked for was for this pain to stop. All I wanted was just for this pain to stop. To let me breathe, to at least let be okay. And I guess it was never meant for me.

yours truly,

sarah.