You’ll never know what people keep inside; their thought, their feeling.
A girl, beautiful and sweet, always carry a lovely smile everywhere and give it to every people she meets, just confessed to me that she actually planned to kill herself at least ten times a day.
And I just couldn’t believe it.
I believe it, but I don’t believe it. I know it is possible, but I can’t give myself the answer of such an acceptable reason for that thought.
How could she?
She’s surrounded by so many people who love her–including me. She has such a great life and she always has a smile on her face every time I look and talk with her. And no matter how much I think about it, her life is indeed luckier than me in some aspects. How could she think of suicide?
But when I think about it again, it actually makes sense. Because I, you, everyone, just can’t know what other people feel inside. They might tell you, but sometimes you just still won’t understand the exact feeling since you don’t stand in the same shoes. They are the one who experienced the things that make them feel that way, not you.
Now I ask you: what do you think about me? What do you think about the life I live?
Some people told me that they see me like a water, so calm; a book, so open; a sun; so bright. Some people even ever told me: “Don’t you have problems?”, “Have you ever angry? I never see you angry.” and such things. Before, I just laughed and thought how funny those questions are. But now I think those questions are actually acceptable because people just will never ever know what other people feel inside.
So can you just please be kind to everyone you meet? A smile is so simple, but it could eventually brighten someone’s bad day. Can you please, don’t be so mean, say anything that is rude, or hurt others? They are fighting a battle you know nothing about.
I’m an open book. My best friends said it is so easy for them to notice whether I’m happy or sad, and perhaps it is easy for you to notice too if you know me.
But have you ever thought of the idea that me, sometimes, cry myself to sleep, in the middle of the night?