I was so sad, a year ago, the day I received the bad news. Felt like my world is taken away forever. I stayed inside my room for weeks, didn't go to class. Grieving. Pleasing the dark force.
I told myself, this is the consequence. I deserved all this. I have no other reason to stay, to live. I refused to undergo any treatment. Not because I don't love myself, it's because I love others. And on my mind, world would be better for them without me.
Plot twisted! Run away from everyone made me think, think, think so much about the future. The doctor said it'll be just one year, then I can hide no more. It's not like everyone else, which most of them show no physical marks. My case is different. One year isn't that long period. It's just few blinks of eyes. Furthermore, after this one year, who will take care of me?
"No one will."
So I decided to just do the treatments.
Yes, it hurts. Hurts me more than I leave it on its own. Besides, it costs me like I'm the son of the mighty king of the nation. However, I did made it to -almost- the last. Other people might not know what happened to me, but tbh everyone, especially the ones close to me seem do care and understand my condition. Slowly, step by step, I can feel those hands helped me.
Throwback a year ago, I was giving up on life, not only that but everyone, including god. It sound like terrible, it is! Now every morning breeze blows over my window curtains is such a bless.
Thank god.
Thank you.
Thank god.
Thank you.
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Happiness is not having to set alarm the next day, they say. Or/and talking to a friend who makes you feel that everything's going to be okay. Or/and Friday. I had it all a year ago yet I was still not happy. Five days ago, I'm sitting next to my best girl friend in my class. On her tumbler, written;
Then I smiled.
