I was scared.

  I was scared of myself, judgement of others, life, future, past, love, hate, hope and trust. I’ve been too hard on myself for the last 8 months. I blamed and hated myself everytime I did a mistake. I always told others they are only human and they can feel hopeless but nobody ever told that to me.

  I’ve given way too much love and attention that people forgot I wasn’t a serving robot and needed those too. I’ve been patient, I’ve told myself “They are just healing right now, they probably don’t have time for you.” because I’ve been brainwashed with the bad things people said about me, I thought I was my mistakes. I thought I was a failure in a dark pit and no one can be the light to me.

  And to be honest, none I showed love, attention and kindness turned out as my light, no. They are still careless about me. But the difference is, I don’t feel a need of love and attention from them anymore.

  I don’t need anything from this world which hurt and broke me, and the people in it whose words are full fakes and gave me headaches. I didn’t want to chase and honor something that made my soul bleed in every way. I wanted joy and peace which doesn’t cut me piece by piece.

  It took a long, long time for me to accept myself. Once I sat in front of the mirror and apologized to myself for all the pressure, mental and physical harm and hate. But the next morning, I forgot about it all and fell again. “Should I rise or should I fall?” I asked myself, “What’s the point of trying if I’m gonna get nothing in return?”

  There was a point but it was something difficult. It was something most people hated and didn’t expect. I first thought it was a lie or just isn’t enough, but that was peace itself.

  Back to the fight, actually it was all about me helping Ameylx through all the hard things she had to feel and experience by trying to make her laugh, ask her to talk about the things she’s proud about herself without saying “Are you proud of that?” or anything, by just asking questions and hyping her and she started to talk and it made her head less busy. She told me I changed her life, taught her how to be joyful and energetic even if she felt depressed and that she loves me so much.

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  But the thing she couldn’t notice was that she actually didn’t loved me.

  Everytime I started to tell about my problems, she looked at the wall, didn’t pay attention and if I still go on, go next to Ade without telling me anything or even looking at my face. She pretended nobody was talking, made me wonder if I was a ghost or somehow muted.

  But the hard truth is I wasn’t, she just didn’t want to deal with me. That made me feel like trash. And not only her who did this, but all my friends. I cared about them so much that I randomly texted them, “How are you, really? Just a reminder, you can talk to me. I won’t judge or make you feel shameful. I love you so much.” out of nowhere. And they did talk, about everything. Their lovers and every information about them and the things they did together, their daddy issues, their dreams, unnecessary things about themselves, their friends, the things they got annoyed by, their favorite flowers, the pressure from their parents about lessons, the panic they felt during exams, mean words others told them, their dead pets, their success in everything, how their parents are proud of them only when they do something nicely, the brand new presents their rich friends bought them, the sports they enjoy, their childhood, their school grades, their nightmares, when they wake up in the morning, their house, their favorite book and their ideas on that books, songs they loved, dinner they went out with their family, shortly, everything.

  What did I tell them? Hah, good question. My plans to cut myself. My plans to kill myself. My plans to run away. What did they say? That’s even a better question, my friend! I’m glad you asked that!

  Nothing.

  They ignored me, sent only sad emojies, said “Oh okay, I got it.” or only read…

  I don’t know if they thought I was a joke or someone who had everything figured out only because I don’t have much parent pressure as much as they do. But see, I wasn’t ChatGPT.

  They acted like I am. They told everything wrong, but didn’t care in return.

  To all who never even desired to help me or only hug me while I’m crying and forced me to write my sadness into a book,

  Very trutly I tell you, be ashamed.

  For I can’t even imagine a life of telling your problems to someone who has thousands of scars on their arms, then looking right into the scars and saying, “Okay.” And walking away.

  Don’t get me wrong, I was the one asked them to share their sadness with me, and I’m so happy they did but you know, I don’t write anyone if I trutly need help.

  This is the reason why I’m scared of love.