(What’s on your mind?)

I hate people. They're judgemental, shallow, and they don’t understand me.

(Erase)

I hate myself.

(Enter) (Click)

::::

In between the midst of the penetrating, endless sound of escaped words, and layers of typed sentences lines on the white screen, Howon finds himself restless and could not centred his depleting attention towards his lecture. His body is there, but his mind is wandering elsewhere. He nods every now and then, each time the lecturer rushes his eyes towards him, but his fingers are somehow finding its way to click on the Internet browser, of the small, handy laptop at the desk, exactly at his sight.

Understanding depression

He types in the two keywords on the search engine, clicks enter and within milliseconds away, hundreds of results instantly appear on the screen. He carefully scrolls the results down and read each of the headlines.

The twelfth headline catches his attention, and he clicks it again.  

Depression is a disturbance in mood characterized by varying degrees of sadness, disappointment, loneliness, hopelessness, self-doubt, and guilt.

He catches his breath. For a second, his mind shuts down from the overpowering silence he slowly feels lingering inside his mind. The lecture in front is no longer his interest. Then, he reads more.

In the next level of depression, symptoms become more intense and last for a longer period of time. Daily activities may become more difficult…but the individual is still able to cope with them. It is at this level, however, that feelings of hopelessness can become so intense that suicide may seem the only solution.

Suicide. He feels his body embark on to numbness at that one particular word. Howon rubs his temple, and closes down the search tab instantly. Inevitably; worst thoughts begin to battle inside his drifting mind.

Because Howon remembers when he wakes up this morning, he is greeted by the overwhelming dead of silence, instead. He even tries to search for the possible scribbled sticky notes, or clues (one that is written by her the day before) pasted on any walls, the fridge’s door or perhaps by any chance, it would be pasted on his bedroom’s door, but he simply found none. Adding much to his concerns, her knitted white sweater is left sombrely on the sofa.

Howon wonders to himself. Did Bomi purposely leave her sweater there or have she genuinely forgotten to bring it with her? And where could she possibly gone to during that early in the morning? He ponders at his thoughts, and tries his hard to reason everything out that somehow his head aches for a minute.

When a loud sigh escapes his mouth, Howon begins to attract some unwanted attention towards him. He clears his throat softly, trying to endure the much awkwardness, as he begins to notice how those eagle eyes of his mostly unfamiliar college mates start gawking at him in perplexity. The scrutinizing silence in the room makes it ten times more awkward.

“Any problem, young man?” The lecturer asks, standing still in his position, as he peers over his half-glasses.

“No— nothing.” He replies with an instant shake of his head. “I dropped my pen, sorry Sir,”

Of course, Howon knows his white lie is tinier than the fad he has running through his head.

::::

Winter, cruel winter.

She has been standing there for a while, hesitating if she should take her steps further inside the pharmacy shop, which is only a few steps away from her. A gust of wind sweeps away her last drop of warmth, as the slaughtering snows of winter continues to send those chilling shivers down to her spine.

Bomi grits her teeth, and tightens the grips of her hands with the thin cotton layered of the long-sleeved shirt she wears. Cold, everything feels cold outside. Her lips almost turns into white pale, but she doesn’t realized. She isn’t aware of the attention that she gets from the passers-by too, in which some would kindly offer to lend her their jackets, but each time they do, she would shake her head, and refuse.

She blinks once, twice. She breathes in, out. Then, she makes up her mind. Her steps are heavy, as she drags them painfully slow towards the entrance door of the pharmacy shop. She pushes the door open, and poof. This is exactly what she hates the most. Everyone’s scrutinizing eyes, cheekily waiting for her tragic downfall. At least, this is how the reality of life it is in her eyes. 

“Can I… can I buy this?” She enquires with much hesitation in her faltering tone, as she places a piece of small cut paper on top of the glass table of the counter.

“Benzodiazepines,” The nurse reads it out loud. She pauses a while, before quickly darting a questioning look at Bomi.

“Miss, this kind of sleeping pills is a prescribed medication and it requires doctor’s consent slip. Did you bring the slip with you?”

Bomi bits her lower lip, as her fingers anxiously fiddling the hem of the thread of her cotton fabric shirt. She knows it beforehand, this would eventually happen. 

“I don’t…” She murmurs to herself, almost inaudible. “I—”

Then, it hits her.

Perhaps in her world, everything is dark, everyone is up against her, and happiness doesn't exist. Abruptly, she yanks the piece of paper away from the nurse’s hand, putting the nurse in a state of confusion.

Bomi runs, and runs, and runs. Throbbing tears drop all along the way.

::::

The one thing that Howon hates about his rented apartment is the missing of the much needed elevator convenience for its residents. Having to climb up the stairs of a ten-storey building is a thing, but having to walk up hundreds steps of stairs each day just to reach the tenth floor of the building is another.

Howon curses under his breath, as he wipes the cold, salty sweat away which lazily trickles down his forehead with the back of his hand in a swift. Ten more steps, he counts in his head, and slightly tugs the strap of his bag pack, as he finally reaches his floor.

That empty hallway is usually his loyal friend, a friend that would happily greet him each time he comes back home. But that evening, he is however, greeted by the sight of her.

Bomi. From a distance, he could see that familiar figure of hers, as she sits down, all alone on the empty hallway’s floor. Both of her hands are struggling to hug her knees, as her strands of hair covered her entire face. Wet, her hair looks somehow wet.

He doesn’t know what it is, but a sharp pain lurks in when he sees that defenceless side of hers. And so, he hustles his long steps to get her,

“Bomi,” He beams with a slight haste, as he crouches down to level her. “Bomi,” He says it louder this time.

“Are you... are you okay?”

“Hmm?” She mumbles, as she raised her head. Her eyes slowly flicker open, and when she rubs her eyes for the second time, a tiny, withering smile embraces her lips, when she catches his face at her sight. He smiles back, comforting.

“You okay?”

She then nods meekly in return, “You’re home,”

“I’m home,”

Silence.

“Well, umm— the thing is, I’ve forgotten my keys,”

Howon chuckles, and shakes his head lightly before returning his gaze at hers, “How clumsy,”

Perhaps, it's his observant nature, but Howon comes to realize her chapped lips, and of how she shivers with the coldness. Quickly, he gets up on his two feet, and unknowingly, reaches his left hand out to help her frail self to stand up.

“Hey, let’s get you a cup of warm coffee,”

::::

(What’s on your mind?)

They say that red is the colour of hell, and white is the colour of heaven. But if heaven and hell exist, then why do I only see pitch black?

(Enter) (Click)

Tonight, she sleeps well. Tonight, she doesn't cry herself to sleep.