The Monster Under Your Bed (Suicide Awareness #2)

You were afraid. Right?

You still are.

Everytime you open that door to your room. You let the fear shrink inside you. You let the fire of fear melts you down. The agony of being alone in your room was killing you cause every single horrible thing was happening right there.

Remember those nights? Those nights when you wanted to pee but you were too afraid to go downstairs or to even let your warm feet touch and feel the coldness of the floor. 

Remember those nights? Those nights when you kept insisting to your mom to buy a new and broader blanket because you were terrified with the idea of not covering even the smallest part of your skin.

Remember those nights? Those nights when you asked your mom and dad to stay with you because you can’t stand the notion of sleeping alone and letting the ghost lay beside you. 

Remember those nights? Those nights when you were too vulnerable to fight—to win the battle with your hallucinations and ungodly thoughts?

Remember those nights? Those nights when the magic of sleep didn’t work on you. 

Remember those nights? Those nights of silent crying’s? Nights of howling at the moon? Nights of wishing for thunders because the silent was killing you and no one knows—no one, not even a single soul.

Remember those nights? Those nights when you decided to let the fear subside. Those nights when you decided not to be afraid of the monster under your bed anymore.

Remember those nights? Those nights of playing with the your monstrous thoughts while staring at the ceiling with your fluffy and bloodshoot eyes.

Remember those nights? Those nights of being lone wolf, crying and growling but no one listened, no one lended an ear, no one thought of your cries as music—no one, none of the billion people out there.

Remember that exact night? That night when you heard the thunders roaring outside your window. That night of giving up. That night of losing the battle. That night of struggles. That night when you can’t even feel the wind. That night when everything was vague. That night of cease fire—cease fire with everything that was making you exhausted. That night of self-inflicted wounds. That nights of scars. That night of putting your armors down. That night, that night when you died.

You died and it felt like no one mourned with you.

And remember the last night? The finality? That night when you’ve invited the monster under your bed to be beside you instead. That night when you realized that she is you and you are her. That night when you’ve been excommunicated to the world. That night when you told yourself, it’s over—I’m over.

You were so afraid. Right?

You were.

But then you heard the pounding at your door. You heard the screams outside, calling your name. You heard voices. You heard cares. You heard love. You heard hope. You heard faith. 

It was hard. Too hard. As if walking to that door was a dance with death and every step was ripping you into shreds.

But you tried.

You walked closer to that door and with all the strength that was left in you, you opened it.

And…

You saw care. You saw love. You saw hope. You saw faith.

You look at the monster on your bed.

He was raging mad.

You decided to bid goodbye.

We won, my dear.

You won.

You’re still afraid. Right?

It’s okay. Shhh. Stop crying. I’m here. We’re here. God is here.

We’ll get you a new room.

Now, let’s close that door.

We are trying to demonstrate that someone is always listening #SuicideAwareness

Lifeline (02) 804-4673 (HOPE)

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