April was too lonely a month to spend alone. In April, everyone around me looked happy. People would throw their coats off and enjoy each other’s company in the sunshine—talking, playing catch, holding hands. But I was always by myself.
Sometimes your heart needs more time to accept what your mind already knows.
This is an apology letter to the both of us for how long it took me to let things go.
I destroyed my body for a peace of mind I never got.

This is not a movie.
This is not a novel.
This is real life.
Nobody is going to save you.

If you jump into a river to end your misery,
your body will be left to drown and later on found.
Nobody is going to save you.

If you say you’re going to overdose,
your bedroom will not be helplessly searched to throw away meaningless capsules and mixed toxins.
Nobody is going to save you.

If you rip your flesh apart every single day of your life,
those same blades will sit cold on your night stand everyday.
Nobody is going to save you.

If you subtly tell others these thoughts in attempt to be saved,
your pleas will be ignored, later followed by “I should’ve seen the signs before it was too late.”
Nobody is going to save you,
because only you know the antidote to save yourself.