16 Reasons To Unlove Someone Like Me

One,
loving me
is a suicide mission.
You will enter a battlefield
where your opponent
is a pack
of shattered perceptions
that can easily be triggered
by a change of weather,
loaded with ammos of tirades
and armed with guns
pointed on both
my head
and your chest;
they are ready for war
while you hold a bottle of water,
an antidepressant
and a prayer.
I am telling you,
you are so fucked up.

Two,
loving me
is saving both me and yourself
at the same time.

Three,
loving me
is letting me alone.
Stay away when I ask.
I will not hurt myself
because of loneliness,
but I might hurt myself
because of small talks,
knocks on my door,
phone rings.
Let my playlist
and silence
be my heaven.

Four,
in contrary,
loving me
is staying by my side.
I am sick.
Sometimes, I admit.
Oftentimes, I do not.
I am sick,
but I don’t need you to feed me
or aid me to the bathroom
‘cos this is not a flu-kind-of-sick,
nor colds-kind-of-sick;
this is sleeping-all-day-kind-of-sick,
this is overthinking-all-night-kind-of sick,
this is cutting-flesh-kind-of-sick.
This is not fatigue
nor insomnia.
This is planets colliding inside me,
This is black hole eating my sanity,
leaving me empty
and tired.

Five,
loving me
is learning to be mute.
There are times,
that I only need
is someone to stay.
No words.

Six,
loving me
is a suicide mission.

Seven,
loving me
is loving my monsters.

Eight,
loving me
is understanding my depression.

Nine,
loving me
is not showing me love.
Love is the root
of my brokenness,
so— no,
don’t shower me
with the same love
that shreds me.

Ten,
loving me
is extinguishing a wildfire
with a bottle of water,
an antidepressant,
and a prayer.

Eleven,
loving me
is a suicide mission.

Twelve,
loving me
is writing a letter of apology for me
that says:
“Mom, I am sorry”

Thirteen,
loving me
is not telling me to
“be okay”,
but sitting beside me
with two beers on your hand,
asking me to watch Game of Thrones,
leaving the windows open,
keeping the knives in the kitchen,
turning the lights off.

Fourteen,
loving me
is acting normal.
I am no special.
I am not an orphanage
or your key
to redeem your faith in humanity.

Fifteen,
loving me
is not looking for cure,
but ditching my therapy
and going somewhere else remote,
isolated,
quarantined by the waves of the universe
and the universe alone.

Sixteen,
loving me
is a suicide mission.