Maybe because no matter how angry i’ve been with him, and no matter how many times i’ve wished i could hate him completely, there has always been a part of me that still looks for his softness.
Terus nyokap gue cerita kalau hasil MCU bokap buat keberangkatan haji belum keluar, sementara punya nyokap udah. And suddenly, he looked so vulnerable and fragile when he said,
“Kayaknya uda gak dikasih izin berangkat haji. Terus kalau beneran iya nggak bisa berangkat, kamu gimana sendirian berangkat? Kamu berani gak di sana? Kalau ada apa apa, gak ada uda, kamu gimana?” Jujur, di sini gue agak terharu.
No matter how much i’ve hated my dad, or how many times i’ve said it because of the things he’s done, deep down i think i’ve always known that i love him more than i’d like to admit. Bokap gue bayar dua tiket haji buat dia dan nyokap gue. Full bokap bayar karena nyokap gak kerja.
People call me independent, but they don't see the part of me that is still exhausted from surviving.
The part that secretly wants to stop being strong for once, collapse into someone's arms, and finally know—
I don't have to catch myself this time.
I told myself,
"I feel safest when I do everything alone."
But maybe that isn't independence.
Maybe that's grief.
Grief for every time I needed someone and nobody came.
Grief for the child who learned to hold everything together while everyone else was falling apart.
I became strong bcs breaking wasn't safe.
I became silent bcs crying changed nothing.
I stopped needing people bcs needing them only taught me disappointment.
So I grew up over-prepared.
I made plans for my plans.
I learned to carry everything myself and call it strength.
so i keep it quiet. i hold it close. ilet it shape me, haunt me, and sometimes, i let it break me a little but i'll never let anyone see the whole thing.
i will never tell anyone the full story about my family, or the things that go on behind closed doors. some wounds are too deep, too complicated, too raw to explain. even if someone asks, even if they say they want to understand, they wouldn't really get it. it's mine to carry,
and it always will be. the anger, the disappointment, the hurt, the secrets— they live inside me, and sharing them feels like giving pieces of myself to a world that won't know what to do with them. some pain isn't meant to be shown, some stories aren't meant to be told.
nobody likes you when you're depressed. Plain & simple. we can talk all day about mental health and how important it is, but the moment u are depressed people start to distance themselves. They see you as negative, a burden and someone too heavy to handle.