Pa, I need you to cook for me

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Pa, I need you to cook food for me not because I don't know how or I'm being lazy. It's because I can't stand right now. My legs are trembling out of fear, anger, and exhaustion.

Pa, my heart is in pieces right now that's why I can't buy myself food. I don't have the courage to put food in my stomach. 

Pa, I've been thinking of suicide lately. I wonder how it feels like to trace my skin with the kitchen knife. I wonder how the world and people lives in it goes on with their lives years after I die. 

Pa, the love of my life ( or at least the one I thought I love) hurt and betrayed me. 

Pa, I'm thankful I get to be your eldest daughter. I'm your splitting image. Copy and paste as you put it. 

But I'm not like you. You're way too strong than me. I think I failed you. I wasted your sacrifices for someone I thought I loved. 

Pa, I need you to cook food for me because I'm on my wits-end and I'm afraid I might lose this battle. 

(I wrote this in reference to my past self who went through depression and struggled to continue. Papa was my savior that time. The minute I called him, he answered. Pa, thank you for saving me before. I'm glad I didn't give up. I'm glad I'm still here and getting better. )



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