help

i need help. but i'm afraid to ask for one.

my closest always be the farthest, and the farthest always be long long farthest at the time like this.

some people would say, "seek for help." then i would answer it with a smile. i know. i would love to.

"what? what are you talking about? what help?," i will answer this instead between the painful laugh.

some people would say, "it's too bad. you should have told me earlier."

i did. i was trying to. i did. i was trying to.

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you, i'm busy coping up with my own self." lie, lie, lie, lie.

wondering what i do to make a living, whether i'm surviving or giving up, sympathizing, leaving, then forgetting, that's what people do.

people will always come at the end of the chapter, 

and i wish i lived only at the end of the chapter.

no plot twist,

no climax,

it's just an end.