Suddenly, I felt myself slowly changing. I stopped crying over the things that hurt me. I've become less interested in everything, I stare at something but I couldn't see a thing. I felt my heart aching but I refuse to speak out how I feel. I completely forgot about my own environment, and I gave more attention to myself more than anything.
I learned not to care, partly because my heart become so cold and sometimes empty. I terribly wanted to have no heart so that I would stop hurting. But it still hurts— no matter what I do, it still hurts. I watched myself broke down so many times, cried on the kitchen floor with my bended knees, and suffered a lot of nightmares in my bed until I've become sick of it.
Suddenly, I forced myself to get up and walk unwaveringly. I had to pick myself up after they destroyed me. I had to pick up the pieces of me because I deserve healing. The only way to stop the pain is to start healing, and giving up on myself is not an option. I don't want to die sad and hurting, so I forced myself to get up even though most of the parts of me have already been broken.
— Shiori X
An excerpt from the book: Lost In an Empty Street at Midnight
Art: hessah._.art
