The Failed Not-So-Fatal Suicide Attempts of a Fragile Boy

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You showed me the scars you got from all those scalpel cuts you implanted on your wrist. White cuts from white cuts, you managed to forge a smile while explaining how you got each one of them. I had mine but nothing of that kind. (Yeah! We, suicidal boys, rock!) Like a valiant, feisty warrior proud of his battle wounds, you revealed yourself to me in the most uncompromising situation possible. And there goes my two-cents of respect for you, I was hoping I could do the same and smile my worries away like you did that moment.

I felt a strong connection being developed ever since our paths intersected. I felt like I know your struggles, I know the way you handle things; I know how your mind works. We both pursued the same degree on different universities and you failed to graduate on time, exactly what happened to me. Though our looks are poles apart, the commonalities were just overwhelming to say at the very least.

I saw myself in you, a parallelism we could never deny – you were like me but much better.

I am much more controlled than you are. You were more transparent and more care free. Though our looks may mislead judgments, I know I am the more serious one and you’re the laid back counterpart. And I know I am (socially) way cooler than you are.

Our circumstances made me realize why I travelled the route different from yours. You mirrored what exactly I envisioned on the other side on my very decisions. Like the way you explored the unchartered place I avoided all my life. Like how you managed to hold on to that one dream I let slipped away. Like how you managed to keep yourself together and not have gotten berserk.

Ultimately, we fell down, gone depressed, hit rock bottom, and picked up what’s left on our dignity. We managed to suck it up, deal with stress and move on. We may never hold on to that promise we will never attempt suicide once more, but heck yeah, we will make sure we will be there for each other whenever we feel like chopping our wrists with scalpels.

Troika III (Finale)

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Third Party

You had a problem with your best friend recently. I was there to help you.

You talked about how hard it was for you to lose a friend. I listened to your sorrows.

You said you felt like you were abandoned and things just fell out of order. I saw your struggles.

You asked me to stay faithful as a friend. I did as I promised, though I thought I was rational.

You thought we were good friends. I thought we were close friends.

They knew all of these stuffs. They asked who your best friend is.

You uttered a name, your best friend’s name. Not mine. And I thought, damn, get over it!

I felt bad and betrayed. You never said a thing.

I am just a third party trying to enter an exclusive relationship. You never realized though.

I am just a guest to your sortie. You invited me still.

I told you to get over it. You said the same to me.

I was speechless. You were right.

They knew all of these stuffs. But they know nothing really.

I am going to find me another. You said nothing. I said nothing. Done.