The medicine I had but never really had is you. The moment you could have embraced me but decided to look away would have been my medicine The moment you could have understood me but chose to blame me instead, would have been my medicine The moment you could have heard me out instead of labeling my emotional wounds as excuses, would have been my medicine The moment you could have spoken up for me but remained silent would have been my medicine
They turned out to be the reason now I need another medicine.
It is the kind of medicine you have to pay for but I guess that’s ok. It is the kind of medicine I would be craving whenever you hurt me but that’s ok?
It is a drug I’ll need even if they tell me I won’t and that’s ok? The comfort I seek from you, I’ll never stop seeking it. You’ll never stop depriving me.
Where do you think I’ll turn to? Another source of medicine is ok. Dependence is not.
What am I supposed to do then?
The psychological me and the physical me are not really me. All they scream is pain. All they feel is pain. How can it be me with no happiness? I have to meet the real version of me. Or else, I won’t make it.
I can’t keep on living this life. But I don’t want to do die either. I keep on surviving despite all. But I don’t want to just survive either. I don’t want this cycle to continue. But I can’t stop it either.
A medicine that won’t scare me… will I ever find one?