It’s okay.

It'll be okay.

Everything will be okay.

I wonder how many times you've heard those lines before. Probably too many, made you sick to your stomach a few times. Did it? Make you nauseous? Have you tried to put two fingers down your throat and force yourself to throw up and somehow maybe, after that, you’d feel better?

It didn’t. I don’t think it did. I felt like it didn’t.

Don’t worry. I am not here to tell you that. Not because it won’t be convincing, though at this point, it’s pretty obvious that it won’t be.

Because my words won’t be truthful, I have doubts, you see. Will it be alright?

I think I could only hope it will.

That’s the only thing I could say.

But that is not the reason, I am afraid so.

It's because it’s useless now.

It’s far too late for that. It wouldn’t reach you.

All I ever wanted to say is that I remember you.

I know it doesn’t matter, but I do remember you.

I had a few regrets, you know. I wish I said more. Much more worthy, much more meaningful. Other than that stupid thing like, "if you've got no more reason to stay, then stay for the sake of people who love you."

I hope I didn’t offend you or come off as if I’m invalidating your feelings. Because that’s not it. That was just me, well, being awkward. I'm not good with words; I can only write them.

If that makes sense.

It’s just that I had no more else to say. And if I did, I surely wouldn’t know how to say it.

And it’s painful when you write something sad and someone would say they could relate. Because I would never wish it for anyone.

That kind of sadness and pain.

Partly the reason why I seldom write these days; I don’t even want to be alone with my own thoughts. Or let alone acknowledge them.

I've learned to block them out somehow, like I always did before.

But today, I’ll slightly open the lid, just for this. Because I know it’s worth it.

You’re worth it.

I hope I took my chance to get to know you. But I was at that point in my life when strangers are not welcome anymore. It sounds harsh, but you could say I've had enough making friends at that time. I only had a few, and whenever I lost them, it’s like taking out pieces of me I could never bring back.

I wouldn't contribute much anyway. I know that. Not that I could help you. That would be funny because I can't even help myself.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned the hard way, no words could reach someone who’s not willing to help themselves.

At the end of the day, we only have ourselves. And it’s up to us to decide.

Choosing to answer that damn phone call.

Saying yes when you wanted to say no.

Will you stay or will you go?

Where we are today is the result of the things we’ve chosen.

And those we didn’t.

And that was your choice, wasn’t it?

But for what it’s worth, I just want you to know, whatever that is,

I understand.

It’s not okay, and I understand.